Only to One
by YIWT
Summary: Collection of Loki-centric one-shots that take place during or after TTDW.
1. Frigga Feelz

**A/N: Loki in his cell. Frigga feelz abound.**

* * *

"Mother?" Loki waited. No response. "_Mother_," he called, sharper. "Mother, please come back. Please!" He layered his voice with as much anguish as he could, and there was still no reply.

He heaved a sigh and relaxed. She was gone, then - really gone. With the projections, it was hard to tell. Sometimes she sent him her disembodied voice only; it was less taxing for her to just hold conversations with him than to actually send an illusion of herself.

He preferred the illusions, though, because otherwise he felt like a mad person, talking out loud to people no one could see. But he _was _mad. He knew that.

When he was sure that he was truly alone, he cast a projection of his own. Frigga, exactly as she had looked a moment ago. Facing away from him, as if about to leave the cell. "Mother – wait," he said. His voice was a little unsteady, but it didn't matter – there was no one to hear.

The illusion paused. Raised its head to listen.

"You've been patient with me," he said to her back. "But I need your patience a while longer."

The illusion did not turn to face him. It sighed.

"I don't know how long," he went on. "It might be a long time." It could be a _very_ long time, but maybe, eventually, it was possible his rage might burn out and he might want to return. He had recurring nightmares about being _just _too late. About finally feeling ready to be a son to Frigga again, _just _when she gave up on him and stopped coming.

"You'll never wear out my patience, Loki. Not for this." It was good to hear – even if it wasn't real. He waved his hand and the illusion melted away.

It was strange, though. He had never been able to cast illusions of her voice before.

* * *

The End.

Let me know what you think! I have at least six plot bunnies running around after seeing the movie last night, so hopefully I'll get some more up this weekend.


	2. Thor & Frigga

**A/N: Ok, so this one's Loki-centric but doesn't actually have Loki in it. Sorry. Next time!**

* * *

"Thor?" Frigga looked surprised to see him sitting alone in the dark.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," he said. It was his planned explanation for why he was out on the balcony by himself, sober, while the party was going on downstairs.

"Thor, it's raining." She came and sat down next to him. "Why aren't you down with your men?"

"It is not seemly for the king to become drunk amongst his warriors." That was what Father had always told him, back when he used to do it.

She sighed. And waited.

Eventually he could not bear the silence any longer, and admitted: "I have grown unaccustomed to revelry."

"I see."

"After Loki fell..."

"You felt disloyal rejoicing in his defeat," Frigga finished for him. "I remember."

"Yes. And then, ever afterward, his absence saddened me. I did not feel like rejoicing."

She laid a hand on his arm and there, in the dark, he felt able to speak steadily. "All I could wish for, so many times, was just one more night with Loki by my side." His voice was thickening as he said it, remembering sitting by a fire together, Loki laughing as he conjured a wound closed. "I would have traded all the parties in the Nine for it."

Suddenly, Frigga was crisp and exasperated. "Thor, Loki is right downstairs."

Thor scowled. "He is not. My brother is gone."

"Your brother is in this very palace," she argued, "And he needs you. How would _you _feel if everyone had turned their back on _you_ when you did wrong?"

Thor sat in mutinous silence for a moment, but he was not quite as stubborn as he used to be. He was trying. "Loki and I are not speaking," he admitted. "There is too much anger between us. Anger and pride."

"The two of you have built up a fine, strong wall." He could hear her wry smile. "I would expect no less of Odin's sons."

He snorted.

"But, Thor... of the two of you... who do you think is better able right now to break it down?" He stared out at the (cloudy) sky, and tried not to feel small and scolded. He had not done anything wrong! "Shh," Frigga said, as if reading his mind. "You have set such a wonderful example lately, in so many ways. I am so proud of you for how you've led and what you've done. But you need to do it once more."

Thor considered. "I think I would rather face another army of rock-people than face my brother."

Frigga's laugh was gentle. "The rock-people are simpler," she agreed, "And more easily disarmed." She stood up and bent over him to kiss him on the head. "But fortunately my son never shies from a challenge. Go down to your brother."

* * *

The End. I sorta think that Loki was sleeping (or pretending to) when he went down, and the moment passed, and he didn't try to visit again. :o(


	3. Mean Loki on his Deathbed

**A/N: I kinda think Loki's apologizing to Thor was suspicious. I mean, I think if he were _really _dying, he would have been a jerk. He really is mean enough to punish someone from his deathbed. So….**

* * *

Time stopped and Thor hardly even noticed the creature sucked back into nothingness. He was too busy staring at Loki, watching for some indication that all was well, that the blade hadn't _really _pierced him through, that he wasn't _really _falling to the same weapon that had killed Mother.

The moment he could, he scrambled to his feet and rushed over. "Loki, no. No, no, no."

"_Ah-_ no," Loki gasped. "Get off." Harsh and breathy – not a very encouraging tone of voice.

Thor shifted his grip; if something he was doing was paining Loki worse he would cradle him in a different way. "Better?"

Loki's head turned so that they were looking at one another straight on. "Let go of me," Loki whispered clearly. "You said you- didn't want- to be a brother to me anymore." His speech was halting, strange hitches and pauses, as he forced the words out a few at a time.

Thor froze.

"I don't blame you," Loki went on. Laughed – a terrible sound. "I wouldn't want a- frost giant- for a brother either."

"Loki- Loki, no, please, please you must-"

"_Hshh._" The hissing sound was enough to shut Thor up; his throat was really too thick to speak clearly anyway. "You made your position clear. Fine. I've accepted it. But you can't have my love now. Leave me."

Thor began again to plead with him, but this time was drowned out by a groan of pain as Loki tried to shift position. "Loki- brother please, lie still."

"Leave me." He was laughing again – quiet and dry, but unimaginably bitter. "I'll die alone. As was- always intended." He surged once, dragging himself over onto his side. Facing away. Still chuckling. "Odin- should be pleased."

"Loki, no. Don't- don't _say_ that-…" Thor pulled him into his lap, as gently as he could, and turned him back onto his back. "Loki?"

There was no answer. Loki's face was slack, his body limp dead weight. "No- no, no, no." Thor shook him. "Loki? _Loki!_"

There was still no answer.

* * *

The End.

Sorry, sorry, sorry!


	4. Jane

**A/N: Loki & Jane, post-"death". **

* * *

Loki lay still. He could hear Thor weeping and carrying on, and the mortal woman trying to comfort him. And then arguing with him.

He was on his side and they were at his back, so Loki dared a breath. He was wearing the strongest illusion he could cast, but he did not want to strain it by moving – he was weak and weakening, and if he did not work some healing soon, before long he would die for true.

_Leave. Leave, you fools, I'm running out of time!_ He willed them to remember that _they _were running out of time as well, that they had to hurry before the Dark Elf finished his work of erasing all creation. Surely that was more important to them than this stupid lovers' quarrel?

He listened a little more carefully. "You can give me thirty seconds!" The woman's voice was high and agitated. "I don't _know _it will work. I don't even _think _it will work. But I can't rule it out. Okay? After everything I've seen today, I can't rule out that there's _some _powerful nonhuman entity out there that communicates with humans. It might be some, some rogue elf or giant or _something, _I don't know, but it could be there. And if it is, then the Convergence is the time most likely of _any time ever_ when it's able to hear the words coming out of my mouth. If _you _can sit there and scream for five minutes you can give me thirty seconds for this. It costs us nothing and we might as well."

"Jane-…"

"I'm not leaving until you let me."

"Very well." Thor's voice was clogged and sullen. "Thirty seconds."

"Fine. Good. Thank you."

The woman was coming closer. Loki had heard the argument but he was so groggy he did not yet know what she was planning to do. Whatever it was had better be quick – he was fading fast, and he knew that if he slipped away now he would not wake up.

The crunch of gravel told him that she was sitting down beside him. No – not sitting. Kneeling.

"_Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done-_"

She was chanting. No – not chanting. _Praying._

She finished what she was saying, took a breath, and then started again. "_Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…"_

The chants were brief, at least. Afterwards she started talking to herself. "I can't believe I just added a CC line to a prayer. But I might as well try everything, right? Right. Here goes." Her voice rose just a little. He could hear that her face was tilted up, away from him. Good – if she was paying attention to her sky-god she would not notice if his glamour slipped.

"God, whatever or whoever you are, if you're listening, you probably won't remember me. I haven't prayed since I was a little kid. But. I just wanted to say a few words now, for Loki, a- an Asgardian-slash-frost-giant who just died a couple of minutes ago."

Oho, she was going to intercede with her god for him? This should be good! (And the surprise, and amusement, would help keep him awake a little while longer. Excellent.)

"He did some horrible things, but he also just saved my life, more than once I think, and sacrificed himself for his brother. And the universe, really. So. If you're taking requests, then please, um, consider this a petition from me for Loki. Be kind to him." She snorted. "And FYI, Hell's actually probably not a very safe place for him right now, considering he just sent a bunch of really bad guys there and they're probably pissed. Okay. Bye. Uh, amen."

Oddly, though the woman was ridiculous Loki had no wish to ridicule her. He had been prayed to enough himself to know sincerity when he heard it. If he did escape this, and survive, he would do something generous for her in return.

…Of course, if she did not hurry up and leave him in peace, he would probably not survive at all.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, now in his direction. "Goodbye, Loki."

He focused everything he had on his illusion and it held until she and Thor had stood and moved away.

* * *

The End.

What do you think? I don't remember anything in canon about Jane's religion, but I'm assuming lapsed christian of some sort is as likely as anything else.


	5. Post-Movie, Loki is Alive

**A/N: Post-movie.**

* * *

Odin broke the silence. "Well, well. After half a year _my son _has returned. And requested a private audience with _his king._ May I know the occasion?"

Thor flinched. It appeared he had learned to recognize sarcasm, then. Impressive.

"I- am sorry I stayed away." Thor looked down. "The thought of Asgard – of home – was very painful for me."

"Mmm." Odin tapped his fingers against the arm of his throne. He had long since mastered the urge to throw a leg up over it; it was not dignified. But finger-tapping was a very unsatisfying way to fidget. "And has the pain lessened over time? Is that why you've finally come?"

Thor shook his head. "Father. Loki is alive."

Odin blinked. Sat up straighter. "Impossible." Even the name sounded strange; it had not been spoken here in months. Most said _the foundling_ or _the traitor_ when they wished to refer to him. Those of the view that his heroic death had wiped away the stain of his crimes might call him _Thor's brother. _But never by name. Odin had forbidden it.

"_Not _impossible," Thor argued. "I know it. I know it for fact. Look." He approached the stairs, and on a nod and impatient gesture, climbed them. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a carefully-folded sheet of Midgard paper. "He has sent me an email. It's a- a Midgard way of writing letters."

Odin frowned and snatched the paper. Blinked. (Focusing his eye to read still gave him a headache. He had thought long and hard about keeping both his eyes and trusting in the glamour to conceal the truth, but the risk was too great. This way, his squinting was consistent and genuine. If he changed his mind someday, he would probably be able to grow the eye back. Odin – the original Odin – had never quite managed, but he'd left good records of his attempts, and with just a little more refinement, one or two of the spells were very promising.)

**From: Loki, Loki  
To: Foster, Jane  
Subject: message for Thor**

**Dear Miss Foster,  
Please let my brother know that I am alive, but in hiding. I will not be returning and it would be futile to look for me. Convey my apologies for my cruelty during some of our more recent meetings. Tell him I know he didn't toss me. I wish him well.  
Sincerely,  
Loki**

Odin chewed over the message. "It does not bear his seal," he pointed out at last.

"Emails don't come with seals. But it is from Loki – it _is,_" Thor insisted. "I told no one what he said to me."

"Which was what?" He wanted to hear it.

Thor, apparently, did not wish to repeat it. "It was… cruel. As he says."

"So I gathered. But you did not answer my question, Thor. What was it?"

Thor rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "On Midgard… when first we reunited after his fall... he accused me of having tossed him into the abyss myself."

"Ah. I see."

"I repeated the comment to _no one_," Thor said with certainty. "Which means that Loki is alive. No one else could know about it."

_Except, of course, a mortal with whom I apparently shared more of my thoughts than I intended._ Odin nodded absently. He was going to kill Selvig for this. (It _was _Selvig, and not Barton. Selvig was the curious one, always trying to listen closer, hear more. Barton took his orders and never looked deeper.)

Odin pocketed the email. "I will have this investigated," he said. "You have my word. And in the meantime: Thor, I _forbid _you to seek him out. If indeed he is alive, no good can come of it."

"No good? _He is my brother._"

So, _now _he wanted brotherhood again! How satisfying! Especially since he was not going to get it. "He is a criminal," Odin countered. "If he is found he will be treated as such."

That gave Thor pause. "But-... but I cannot let this go unacknowledged," he argued. "Loki has _apologized _to me. I have to, to see him again. To embrace him, to tell him that-"

"Enough," Odin said sharply. If he didn't cut Thor off soon, someone might cry. "There is nothing to tell."

"But there _is._" Thor chewed on his lip. "I told him-..." His gaze was flat and accusing. "My last words to him were about _you._ Because I thought that was what he would care most to hear. I didn't even get to say my own farewell to him."

"Then say it now." Odin sat back in his throne. "Write to him, as he has written to you, and then let the matter drop. It will be for the best – for him _and _for you."

* * *

Loki knocked at the door politely. He heard stomping. "I swear, if you forget your keys one more time-" and then the door swung open.

Jane froze. "Oh my god."

Loki grinned and ducked his head in greeting. "How nice to be remembered." And he would be – he was wearing his old form again, the form he'd grown up in, with its sharp smile and black hair. He found he had missed it – he'd become used to living as Odin and no longer paused at mirrors, but still, slipping into this shape again had been a joy. Even if he knew it could be only temporary.

"Oh- oh, shit. Shit. Shit!" The girl's voice was rising.

"Hush. I offer you no harm, Jane Foster. May I come in?"

Her eyelashes fluttered. (They _were _pretty eyelashes.) He was impressed at how quickly she managed to regroup; she seemed halfway back to coherent again within a couple of seconds. "Do you need, like, an invitation?"

For a moment the comment made no sense, but he had watched quite a lot of Midgard television in prison and after a moment he puzzled it out. He opened his mouth to show off a pair of spectacular fangs.

"Oh my god!"

Loki vanished the fangs with a laugh. "No invitation necessary, Miss Foster." He pushed past her without waiting longer; he did not want to drag the visit out and risk Thor coming home.

Jane followed him down the hall into the apartment. "Yeah, sure. You're welcome to come in," she invited – an edge in her voice.

"Sorry. Didn't seem prudent to stand lurking in the corridor. I _am _in hiding," he explained. "As my note to my brother apparently said."

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." She had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I didn't know. I wouldn't have impersonated you if I knew. I, uh, I did try to make the note as plain and non-sappy as possible. I thought that's how you would have wanted it?"

He gave her a smile again, but this time a toothy one to make her nervous. "You ascribe coldness to me and claim it's out of respect. That's very interesting."

She took a breath and held it. "Look, just tell me what you want," she said at last. "I'm sorry I pretended to be you, okay, but Thor was _miserable._ He was really grieving. I thought he'd rather think you were alive somewhere." Then she scowled. "Since you _are _alive, actually, can I just put on the record that that was a really dick move. That's twice, now, you let your brother go on thinking you were _dead _when you're not. You really screwed him up."

Loki let a moment go by. "Is there anything else you'd like to say, mortal?" he asked. Quiet and menacing.

"Sorry. Um, no. Actually yes. What happened to your eye?"

He knew he should not have appeared in an eyepatch. But he hadn't yet had time to learn to regrow the eye, and the idea of a glamour had been unappealing after he'd spent so many months living under one. "Sorcery accident," he tossed off.

She smiled, and reached up to poke him in the chest. "You've been passing yourself off as Odin, haven't you."

Loki's stomach knotted. He had not anticipated that… though in retrospect, it was completely obvious. _What had he been thinking, to come and let Thor's mortal guess where he was?_ Now he was going to have to kill her. He could not risk otherwise.

"Hey, I'm not going to _tell _on you," she volunteered. Apparently his horror was showing on his face. "Thor said things have been going great at home – that after the close call with the Convergence, Odin's a little less of a tyrant and his rule is better than ever."

Loki felt his eyebrows rising. "He said _tyrant_?"

"No no, of course not." She laughed. "He had a much politer way of explaining Odin's usual M.O. _Tyrant _is my word."

"Ah. No love lost between you and the Allfather?" Perhaps he would not kill her after all.

She crossed her arms. "He said that Thor bringing me to Asgard was like bringing a goat to a banquet table."

He was surprised into a laugh, but he couldn't help pointing out: "Well, it is."

"Well okay, but that doesn't make it not rude to say to my face!"

He conceded the point with a bow.

Just then, he heard the outside front door clanging. There was a heavy tread on the stairs. "Could that be Thor?"

She looked at her watch. "Maybe."

No time to kill her and make it look like an accident. Very well. He would have to trust. "Thor _cannot_ know about this," he said. She nodded agreement, but he wasn't satisfied. "If you tell him where I am, he'll leave you to come oust me."

She rolled her eyes. "No, he'd leave me to go _live_ with you, but that's not something I want either. I _said_ I won't tell. On one condition."

He winced. Conditions. "Name it."

"You have to promise to come visit him sometime. He's shattered, Loki. All he wants is for you to come give him a hug or something. You can at least do _that_, can't you?"

He considered. "Perhaps. On one condition."

She matched his wince. "Name it?"

"That message you sent him. If there is a response, it belongs to me and I want to see what it says."

She sighed. "He's been trying to write something, but he keeps getting upset and starting over."

There were keys fumbling at the door. He conjured a slip of paper with words already upon it. "_This_ is my email address," he whispered. "If Thor responds, forward it. And I will consider appearing to him."

"Consider? That's not now _conditions_ work."

Loki flashed her a grin and drew the glamour on again. It was almost effortless after all these months. "Silence, goat."

She put her hand over her mouth and he could see she was smiling beneath it. The apartment door was opening. He vanished just in time.

* * *

The End.

Let me know what you think! I'm sort of considering continuing this one.


	6. Loki and Jane During Battle

**A/N: So, after Malekith gets the aether, while Thor is flying all around chasing him and fighting Big Tusky Elf, Loki is left alone with the rest of the elves _and Jane to look after._ I'm sure _that _wasn't stressful at all!**

* * *

"Get behind me!" Loki barked. He didn't take his eyes off the elves. There were three- no, four of them marching in his direction.

"Wh-what do I do?" Jane stammered. From behind him, at least.

"_Stay_ behind me. If we move, keep me between you and them," he said without looking at her. He was busy weaving spells. Teeing them up, really, priming himself to fire off three or four in succession. That was really the most he could safely conjure in advance.

"Is there… anything I can _do_? To help?"

The elves had started to run. He hurled a blast of magic to slow a few of them; if they arrived in waves he would have a better chance than if they all mobbed him at once.

"Loki…" she fretted. He could hear her terror. Didn't blame her.

"Watch my back." Another blast, making them veer a little, forcing them to approach him from downwind. They were already firing, and the swirling dust clouds would give him some cover. Hopefully interfere with the shooting, make him a little harder of a target.

"But, but I don't have a weapon. And I don't know how to fight!"

"I said _watch_," he growled between castings. "If you see something coming, say so. I don't want to be snuck up on."

He spoke as low and smooth as he could, made sure he didn't sound like he was panicking. Hopefully, calm would be contagious.

"Okay. Okay. Okay, I can do that," she was saying, mostly to herself. "Loki-… Be careful."

He didn't answer – he had no more time for Jane. He hoped she remembered to do what he'd told her, or Thor would be picking up her pieces and then carving _him_ into pieces to match.

But he had no more time to worry about that either. They were close enough, now. He sent magic at them that was meant to kill, and it sheared through one elf's armor as Loki threw himself at the other elf – elves – and the fight was _on_.

* * *

The End.


	7. Directions to Mr Tusky-Face

**A/N: While Jane snoozes during the little flying-boat trip, Loki addresses something that's been bothering him.**

* * *

Jane slept. Thor sat at the helm watching over her… and also, watching to be sure that Loki was keeping them on course. He had not yet ruled out the possibility that Loki might deliberately fly the craft into a rock and kill everyone.

"Thor." Loki's voice, from behind him. Soft.

"Yes?" He didn't turn to look – it was safer that way. The less he engaged Loki, the better.

"Will you really kill me, if I deserve it?"

He couldn't place the tone. It was not doubting, it was not reproachful. Rather, he heard almost… hope. "Yes, I will."

A moment passed. "Thor, how did the creature get to Mother's room? What-… what path did it take? Which hallways?"

"What path did it take? How does that matter?"

"Because- because you promised me vengeance," Loki sputtered. "Killing in ignorance is not vengeance at all; I need to know what happened. Tell me."

That was fair enough. "It went up from the dungeons and disabled the shield. Then it stalked the halls a while, killing everything in its path. Once Malekith landed, it met with him outside the great hall and they proceeded together. Up to Mother's room."

He heard Loki let out a breath. "It didn't-… it did not take the south staircase?"

"The south staircase? No. Why?"

He heard breathing again – almost panting. It was a while before Loki spoke again. "Ah… no reason. It's nothing."

Thor had no idea what he was thinking, but in any event it was probably something mad. He did not ask.

* * *

The End.

It's a reasonable fear. I mean, he _did _give Mr. Tusky-Face directions.


	8. Heimdall is Stubborn

**A/N: Post-movie. What happens to Heimdall?**

* * *

Odin stopped just before the cell. "I will speak to the prisoner alone. Leave us," he said to the guards, and they bowed and vanished. Once they had privacy, he raised his voice and barked: "Heimdall."

The Guardian had been asleep, but the command roused him at once and he was out of bed instantly. "My king," he said, rising from the cot, blinking in the light, clapping a fist to his chest. Going down to his knee. Head bowed.

"There's no need for that," Odin said, more quietly. "Rise, Heimdall. I would speak with you."

Heimdall stood. He blinked the last of the sleep from his golden eyes and tried, _tried _to see through the enchantments that had been layered on him.

His gifts had been dampened, by those spells and by the dungeon wards themselves. But still he knew. "_Loki_."

* * *

Loki sent just an illusion of himself into the cell. First, because it was immense hassle to have the warded wall opened, and second, because he was not sure he could bear to step inside it again even if he wanted to.

It was strange enough sending a projection of himself (his _real_ self… or at least, the one he would have _thought _was real until he learned it's not even the correct _species_), watching it step delicately around the furniture. "This was my room," the projection said softly. "You should move the bed; there's always a draft on that side." With a little further effort he could see through the projection's eyes, speak through its mouth… all the while keeping the cell obscured to any who might try to see or hear. He was powerful. Heimdall would do well to remember that.

"You are not my king, Loki. Why have you come?" Heimdall crossed his arms over his chest – his _bare _chest, Loki noticed for the first time. He was bootless as well, wearing nothing but his leather trousers. Loki was not certain he had ever before seen Heimdall without his armor.

"Where are your clothes?"

No answer.

Loki sighed, and said as gently as he could: "Like it or not, Heimdall, I _am_ your king and you will answer me when I speak to you. More to the point, I'm your only hope of getting out of here. Let's try that again, shall we? _Where. Are. Your. Clothes?_"

Heimdall's eyes did not waver. "I was taken to the dungeons directly from my post. My armor was stripped from me."

"And nothing else was brought? I'll have that remedied straight away. This is ridiculous."

The friendly gesture seemed to make no impression at all; Heimdall did not answer or move. Was he even blinking? Loki didn't think so.

"Heimdall… I wanted to talk to you."

"You are not my king."

Loki gave a brittle smile. "I know you're a man of few words, but I really hope you can do better than just repeat the same few over and over." He squared up and _refused _to be intimidated by a half-naked prisoner. "I am the _only_ king available to Asgard at this time and I am doing a damn good job."

"Where is Odin?"

"Odin is asleep." He put a hand over his heart. "Poor thing, he startles so easily these days."

"And Thor?"

"Thor declined the throne when it was offered him. Surely you've heard _that _much gossip at least. I know the guards talk."

Heimdall had been here only three weeks, but Loki was sure he was bored enough by now to have begun eavesdropping. There really was nothing else to do.

"Why have you come?"

Loki scowled. "Sit. I won't have you towering over me if that's the face you're going to make." It wasn't a _face_, exactly, but Heimdall's attitude was hostile and unpleasant. The least he could do was sit down.

At first Heimdall didn't move. "You might want to remember," Loki added, "That you haven't yet been sentenced for your crime and it's within my power to do anything from release to you to execute you on the spot. If I think you won't keep my secrets, I can have your tongue torn out. Please let's not go that route, hm?"

Heimdall sat – still without a word.

"Good. Better. Now: let us negotiate."

Silence.

"I need you. Asgard needs you. But I cannot have you out working against me. So, I need you to swear loyalty to me, and mean it, and then I will let you out of this cell."

Heimdall wet his lips, and Loki waited. At last: "This I will not do."

Loki blinked. "Well. At least you're honest." He stepped away. "I'll return in, say, a month? And see if you've changed your mind."

He vanished the illusion and sighed from outside the cell. "In the meantime, I will have clothes brought." He would bring them himself, actually, disguised as a guard. He did not want Heimdall speaking to anybody unsupervised. He changed the cell wards on the way out, so that Heimdall could hear what went on around him but could not be heard himself. He also laid illusion over the cell so that the walls were always white and the furniture always in perfect order. Just in case.

* * *

A month later, Loki visited again. He looked around the walls and nodded appreciatively. "You have very neat handwriting," he observed.

"You have spelled this room so that no one sees my messages," Heimdall guessed. Hoarse.

"…And so that no one hears you shout. Perhaps you might as well stop." He walked slowly from end to end. "Have you been writing in _blood_?"

"I had no paint."

Loki snorted. "I can have paint brought for you, if you prefer. It won't matter." He sighed. "Let's stop this, Gatekeeper. All I need is your oath, and I can let you out."

Heimdall sighed back. He looked... drained. "If you let me out, I would be back within a few minutes," he admitted. "I will not obey you."

In that case: "Thanks for the warning. I'll see you in a month."

* * *

"Have your views changed, Heimdall?"

"No."

"You must be _dying_ of boredom in there. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"I need nothing. Except Loki in chains, where he belongs."

"Fuck you very much, my friend. I'll be back – eventually. Say, a year from now? How would you like that?"

"My answer will be the same."

* * *

"Loki. Has it been a year already?"

"Not quite." Not even close, actually. Loki hadn't had the stomach to wait more than six or eight weeks. "I'm worried that you'll go mad in there without company. And that is not what I intend for you."

"Mm." Heimdall licked his lips. (They were looking less chapped now; Loki had had some more comforts shipped in and had remembered lotion this time. The air in the cell got quite dry.) "How fares Asgard?"

"Well, actually. Very well. But it would be safer if it had its Guardian. Will you swear your loyalty now?"

Heimdall shook his head.

* * *

This time, he opened the cell. He sent the guards away and stepped in alone - under his glamour. "Heimdall, it's time to go before the court so that I can pronounce sentence. Put this on."

Loki tossed a heavy locking muzzle into his lap. Heimdall looked it for a long moment and then looked up. "No."

Loki snatched it. "Then turn around, and I'll do it. If you don't cooperate I'll have to use a more permanent method of silencing you, and I already told you what it will be."

That, at least, got his sullen acquiescence. Once he was unable to talk, Loki sent guards in to chain him up the rest of the way and bring him up for sentencing.

He did it in front of the whole court. "Your many years of service have been invaluable to Asgard, and you were doing what you thought was right," he said. "Those are facts that work in your favor. However. You disobeyed the express command of your king - and this was not the first time. Nor the second."

Heimdall's eyes burned, but he could say nothing.

"For your disobedience, you will be consigned to the dungeons until further notice." A ripple went through the hall. The king held up his hand. "However. I will visit you on occasion, as I have been, and we will talk. It may take two days, or two years, or two _thousand _years, but when I judge that you have learned from your mistakes, and that I need expect no more insubordination, I will order your release."

Guards had to yank on the chains with all their strength to force Heimdall into a bow. The king suppressed a smile as he was dragged away. _Do you really think you are more stubborn than I am?_

* * *

"Loki? You were just here."

"Yes. I haven't come to ask for your loyalty today. Today I want to know about repairing the watchtower. It's taken six guards at a time to operate the thing in your absence, and they're doing a terrible job."

"What happened?"

"They turned the dome while the Bifrost was still open. It melted a portion of the ceiling."

He spread a scroll out on the floor - Heimdall's table had been taken away after he'd smashed it and tried to short out the cage using its pieces. "Right here. What should we do about it?"

Heimdall crouched down beside him and took the pen from his hand. Loki was fully prepared to be stabbed with it, but all Heimdall did was draw. And explain. His voice was rough and quiet from disuse; he had to sip water every few minutes. But he explained the whole thing

"And... about your oath?" Loki said hopefully, when they were done.

Heimdall shook his head. "Save your breath, Loki."

* * *

"Good morning! Happy November. You don't look well, Gatekeeper."

"You are not my king."

* * *

"Heimdall. Get up. _Get up._"

This time the projection was in the cell again. It had been a while since Loki had bothered; in recent months they'd just had their little conversations through the wards.

"What?" Heimdall only rolled over in bed.

"They tell me you're not eating. I believe them – you look horrible."

"I have no need of food."

Loki heaved a sigh. "We both know that's not true. I won't allow you to starve. Start taking care of yourself, or I swear I will have it done by force. By a deaf-mute," he added, "Who will pay no attention to your treasonous lies."

That, at least, got him to sit up. "Lies?" he laughed.

"Lies. You plan to say I am not the king."

Heimdall swallowed. "I plan to say you're not Odin," he agreed.

"I hope to say that myself someday. Do you think I _like _giving the old bastard credit for everything I do?"

Heimdall's eyes were dull, but he still spoke with strength. "I will not say that you _are_ what you are _not_."

Loki opted not to argue that just now. "Well, you will eat, at least," he declared.

"You can feed me whatever you wish, but I will grow no healthier in this cell."

"We'll see about that." Loki took it as a challenge. He spelled a skylight into the ceiling. Spelled the floor of the cell to pitch and yaw at intervals, so that Heimdall had to run around and balance on it instead of sitting motionless all day. Spelled him fresher air and better food.

And had a metal chair featuring straps and shackles bolted to the floor, as incentive to eat it.

* * *

"Ahem. Wake up. It's April, Heimdall."

He stirred – awkwardly; the thick comforters were not what he was used to. "Where am I?"

"The healing room. You were sick."

"Yes."

A soft knock at the doorway, and they both turned to watch a young healer enter the room. "Very sorry, Your Majesty, Gatekeeper." She nodded to each of them in turn. "But it's time to check his fever again."

"Of course." The king backed away.

"Thank you, Sire. Gatekeeper, open your mouth."

Heimdall did as he was told. Then his eyes widened. "Can you… hear me?"

"Of course I can – but please stop talking. Your throat is parched."

"But- I don't understand." He turned to the king. "I have sworn no oath."

"I know. I suppose I'll just have to take my credit a little earlier than I had intended. I won't have you die." A loud sigh. "Though I don't know why not – you are more impossible than I am. Now get some rest."

Heimdall was quiet for a time. At last he said, up to the ceiling: "Yes... my king." The king paused in the doorway to smile.

* * *

The End.

Heimdall's stubborn, but I'd like to think he's not _impossible _to win over. Let me know what you think!


	9. Jotun Lifespan

**A/N: After Thor makes the offer to spring Loki in return for his help.**

* * *

"When do we start?"

"As soon as possible. It will take some time for me to plan our escape, but-"

"Obviously you should let me help," Loki snapped. "I'm the far superior planner between us."

_Is that why you are locked here in a cage while I prepare to ascend the throne? _But he did not need Loki driven into a rage, so he kept that to himself. "No," he said instead. "Don't make me repeat myself: you are invited along because I need you. Not because I trust you or because I want your company. I have friends who will help me plan. You just... stay here."

He had already turned from the cell when Loki called after him. "Thor. Wait."

The voice was soft and rough again. Thor didn't like to hear it that way; it stirred things in him that _did not exist_. "What."

"I need something, in the meantime. A- a book."

"A what?"

"Mother was bringing me books. But I hadn't yet gotten around to asking her for the one I truly wanted."

He hissed. "Loki, we don't have time for _books._"

Loki laughed. A mad, bitter laugh. "I have no idea how much time I have – that's just it."

"What? I told you, as soon as I can settle on a way to remove you, we will-"

"No – not that. _Listen._" He heart a scuffing sound that said Loki was kicking at the floor – again. He tried not to think of the blood. "Just listen. Father and I-..." A hiss. "_Odin_ and I argued, when first I was brought back here. Something we said made me wonder. I didn't have the heart to ask Mother because I didn't want her to have to tell me but I need to know. I _need to know._"

This did not sound good. "What do you need to know, Loki?"

Loki took a breath. "There are a few volumes in the library about the Jotun – I know there are. I remember one was more... clinical than the rest. I recall pictures of a... dissection." The words were harsh and strangled. "Find that book. Bring it to me, or read it yourself. I want to know how long they – _we_ – are supposed to live."

Thor spun around and came close to the cell. "Loki..."

Loki shrugged. "Mother brushed it off when I fretted about _eternal _imprisonment. Did she mean that the time would fly by? Or did she mean that there wouldn't be much time in the first place? For all we know I'm an old man with one foot in the grave. For all we know my _madness _is just a mind degenerating with ancient age. This could already be the beginning of the end."

"Loki," Thor said again, but found he had nothing to say.

"We know this escape will risk our lives. That's fine - but I would like to know what I'm risking."

* * *

The End.

Dunno where this thought came from, but it's pretty creepy. Can you imagine having _no idea _about the life expectancy of your species?

And: thank you guys so so much for your comments! Totally making my day.


	10. Driving Elf Ship

**A/N: Takes place while the boys are trying to jumpstart the elf ship.**

* * *

The spaceship looked like nothing that anyone drove on Asgard. _How hard could it be,_ said Thor, and then proceeded to push buttons at random and act surprised when no results were achieved.

Loki stole a glance at the mortal. She was of Midgard, and a scientist besides. If this looked anything at all like Midgard technology, surely she would speak up and offer suggestions.

But when he caught her eye she shook her head, blank and terrified. She had no idea either.

_Damn._ He was now out of options. So, although it was an unpleasant thing to look back on, Loki closed his eyes and called to mind his brief crash-course (ha) in how to drive a Chitauri vehicle.

Now that he thought about it, the control panels actually did look a bit similar. The Chitauri flyers hadn't had power-on buttons either – they could be activated by just a sharp blow of a warrior's fist. It was supposed to make movement quicker and more efficient in battle; it required very little attention and you could even do it in your armor or with a weapon in your hand. Bang good and hard on the dashboard, and the ship would roar to life.

Of course, if he _told _Thor that, Thor would refuse to listen. Or, worse, would want to know where he got the idea. That conversation would not likely lead to Thor granting him any measure of trust, which he would need if he wanted to survive this day. So, he said something else.

"Gently," he purred. "Don't bang on it. Just press the buttons gently."

His tone was sweet and patronizing, exactly the tone most calculated to drive Thor into a rage, and sure enough Thor began banging on the ship while swearing that he was not.

The ship powered on.

Loki reminded himself not to look too smug.

* * *

The End.


	11. Loki & Jane AU Plan

**A/N: AU for after Fandral gets the pursuing flying-boat off their tail. This would be a much better plan!**

* * *

When Jane opened her eyes again, they were still in the little flying boat. Well- she and Loki were.

"Where's Thor?" she said, trying to sit up. It was like moving through molasses.

"Lie down. He's fine."

Loki's voice was commanding – but quiet. For some reason his attempts to give orders didn't grate on her like Thor's. (Or Odin's. The bastard.)

"Okay, but where is he?" she said – lying down.

"I pushed him over the side." Loki looked down at her, as if daring her to argue. "More ships were following us. Odin couldn't care less about me – or you. It's Thor he wanted. They stopped to fish him out, and we got away."

The reasoning wasn't terrible. But still.

"Now hang on, and don't distract me."

Loki gunned it hard suddenly, and the speed picked up. Jane's stomach didn't. But this wouldn't be a good time to throw up, so she tried not to.

"Are you going to be sick?" Loki said.

"No. Pay attention – watch the road!" He _was_, though. He hadn't taken his eyes off the road – or sky, or whatever.

"Silence distracts me. Say something."

She swallowed. They really were picking up speed. She sat up just far enough to peek over the edge of the boat...

And she almost had a heart attack. "Loki!"

He laughed. "If it were easy, everyone would do it."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" She was holding on. As if that would help.

"I almost never make mistakes here."

"_Almost_?! Loki! That's a _rock_ – are you nuts?"

"Possibly."

He didn't _look_ nuts, though – he looked focused. Intent. Terrified – but also like he was having the time of his life.

Jane hung on and kept her eyes open as the tiny, _tiny _split in the rock grew closer-...

"Get down," he ordered – quietly again.

She did, just in time. When they zipped into the mouth of the cave bits of rock and metal rained down on her, amid awful screeching as the craft scraped the walls.

But Loki stood unflinching at the wheel, unblinking even, making tiny course corrections, keeping the scraping from becoming a disaster. Despite herself, she was impressed. Maybe they were going to survive this after all.

The noises stopped, suddenly, as they shot out of the tunnel and into open space. "Ta-da," Loki sang.

* * *

As they sailed over the desolate wastes of Svartalfheim, Jane's heart finally slowed and she was able to concentrate on other things besides praying for her life. "What's going to happen to Thor?"

"The cells," Loki said absently. "Probably mine actually; it's vacant. His friends will break him out. He'll come rushing headlong to where we are, somehow, to blindly throw himself in the middle exactly when the situation is most delicate."

But he sounded... _satisfied. _She didn't understand. "That's supposed to help us... how exactly?"

"What?"

"I mean – you said he's going to mess up the plan," she prompted. "I'm asking how that could possibly be a good thing."

"Because the plan is not going to work," Loki explained. "Hold on – we're landing." As he put the craft down, he started talking again. He sounded a little like a crazy person, but it was no worse than Erik had gotten lately. "When a plan's going to work, you want it to go according to plan. Right? Right." He didn't wait for any input. "But when a plan's _not _going to work, then any disturbance or interruption, or the intervention of some unexpected chaos, can only _help_. It can give you a chance where there was none. Can you pick locks?"

"What?" She was going to have to learn to do more than just stupidly repeat _what, _if she ever wanted Loki's respect. Which reminded her: "And – sorry – what's going to happen to _me_? We never really covered that. Thor would have protected me. Will you?"

Loki finished landing, then let go of the stick and turned to look at her. "Yes. Thor would kill me otherwise, and I don't have a death wish."

"Oh." That was... fairly reassuring? She was glad that he'd explained it as self-interest; she wouldn't have believed anything else. "Okay, well... good."

"Can you pick locks?" he said again. Held out his bound wrists to her.

"Uh, no. No, I can't. Sorry."

He sighed. "It's all right, I'll talk you through it. Come here."

It had taken Thor so long to learn to talk _to _her, rather than _at _her. But Loki, on the other hand... Thor had described him as strange and friendless, but already he had managed to put her almost completely at ease. She wondered if he was lying. He _was _supposed to be good at that.

She watched him retrieve slivers of metal from hiding places in his collar and belt. "Take these," he said. "Stand beside me, it's easier." He held the cuffs up. "See the hole just beneath the larger blue screw?"

"This?"

"No – sorry – the smaller hole. Yes. That's the keyhole."

"Okay."

"The straight piece I gave you – that goes in first. Slide it in, and when you feel an obstruction get to the left of it. Then, push the piece up and hold it. Can you do that?"

"Up like over our heads, or up like in front of us?"

"In front of us."

"Okay."

"Do it. I'll tell you what to do with the second piece next."

Jane did as he said. His breath was on her while she worked, and it was a little distracting but she couldn't exactly ask him to stop breathing. "No," he murmured, "You missed the-... yes. There. Gently, yes, a little further..."

She felt it against something. Something with give, something she could shift. "Okay... that?"

"Mm-hm. Good girl – you have steady hands."

Aaand, she needed to hear that about seventeen more times, purred just like that, right against the skin of her neck.

Or, maybe she really _didn't._ It wouldn't be just Loki who got killed if Thor found out that she was thinking-...

"Okay. Now what?" she said, loudly enough to drown out her thoughts.

"Now take the second rod and just _stick_ it in there." There was a growl in his voice now – and amusement. She would bet _anything_ he was doing it on purpose.

"I shouldn't be gentle this time?" she teased. Let him see he couldn't intimidate her by perving. "You want me to just shove it in?"

"I _do_ like you."

She opted to ignore that – joking around was one thing but open flirting was a step too far. "This?" When the second piece went in, it glowed green in her hands and then started to smoke. "What the-...?"

"It's a magic pick," Loki explained – in his normal voice again. "Give it a moment, it has to shift its shape a little."

She could see the metal oozing and bulging. "That's amazing!" She leaned in for a better look – and coughed. "What's that smell?"

He shrugged. "Jotun flesh burning, I think. It _is_ pretty foul, isn't it. Sorry. Give it a moment."

"Jotun-? Loki!"

"Hold on. _Ah_ – there." As soon as the cuffs clicked open, he ripped them off his wrists and flung them down. "Much better."

His wrists were smoking – and ringed with burns, raw and open. "Oh – euw, yuck." Jane made a face but didn't turn away; she'd seen worse. "Do you need anything?"

"No. It'll heal." He smirked. "And I think it will be best for both of us if Thor returns to discover you saying things like _euw _and _yuck_ to me. We've had problems in the past."

"Problems." She didn't doubt it. She herself was _on fire _with lust, or if not lust, then... then _something._ She wanted. _Wanted_.

Loki stepped to the helm of the boat. "Ready to go?"

She could hardly hear him. "Go? Go where?"

He pointed, over her shoulder. "Away from that thing."

That thing? What thing. _Ah_. Suddenly she got it: the source of her want. She could _feel_ him calling to her. "That's Malekith's ship."

"Yes. And I imagine it doesn't corner _nearly _as tightly as this one." He patted the steering stick. "If we can play keep-away for a couple of hours until the Convergence is well and truly over, the universe will thank us. Or-..." he snorted. "It won't, but it should."

It was hard to think with Malekith's desire pounding in her blood. She tried to say something rational. "Loki. Um. Thor wanted to go to him right away," she reminded.

"Yes, well, Thor was worried that you were dying. I can't say I find the prospect nearly as distressing as he did."

She had a sudden desire to jump out of the boat. He was _right there._ His ship was slowing. Landing. "I- I have to go to him."

"Mm. Is he calling to you?"

She nodded.

"Is it getting worse?"

Nodded harder. She had never wanted anything so badly in all her life.

"We can't have that. Give me your hands."

She was too busy pining to think what he must mean, and held her hands out obediently.

"Good girl." A sudden, _painful_ pressure at her wrists and she realized Loki had clapped the cuffs on her. No – cuff. He had crammed both her wrists together and locked one of the shackles around them, and the other around his own left hand. "It's a good thing you've got skinny arms."

"_Loki!_" She tugged uselessly and twisted to try and see over her shoulder, forced to bend over as he sat at the helm. "I have to go!"

"No you don't. Sit down."

"Please!"

"Do you want me to hit you? Really – do you?" he pressed, when all she did was keep fighting. "It might help clear your head."

"I want you to let me go!" She'd had no idea he was this strong; thrashing around with all her strength couldn't even make him lose his balance. He ignored her. Even when she screamed in frustration and soccer-kicked him.

"Sit," he said again, and a good yank sent her sprawling to the floor. He was moving the steering-stick; they were rising into the air. "They've landed; it will take them a few minutes to take off again. That's our head start."

"I hate you," she said to his feet. And she did.

"That's fine. You're in good company. _Ah-_... He's seen us. Hang on."

* * *

The End.

This one I might continue at some point. It's fun!


	12. Frigga Feelz - Define Worse

**A/N: Takes place right after Loki is brought to the dungeon. More Frigga feelz!**

* * *

The cage buzzed to life, the guards checked the seals and then stepped away. Leaving Loki alone – as he would be, now, until the end of his days.

The door closed behind them as they left the dungeons. Loki held his breath and listened to the silence.

"I should throttle you."

He spun around gracelessly, gasping. "Mother!"

She crossed the cell in two steps, raised her hand and struck him across the face with it-…

But it was only a shower of sparks. An illusion – she was not really here. "Mother," he said again, softer. He tried to reach for her, habit really. His hands fell right through her shoulders. "I wish you could really be here," he admitted. "Even if all you plan to do is beat me."

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, though. I am glad you've come like this at least. Thank you."

She looked slightly – but just slightly – mollified.

"What are you so angry about?" he asked. Then winced. "I mean… what are you _most _angry about? Let's hear the top three."

She sighed and stepped away from him. There was a powerful sadness radiating off the illusion – as well as anger, and frustration. "I don't know what angers me _most_, but I can tell you what angered me _most recently_." She drew herself up. "_Define worse_, Loki? Really?"

Her glare reduced him to about the age of seven. "I- I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just… I didn't have it in me to think of anyone else. Even you. I was… too afraid. I really thought he was going to-…" He flicked fingers against his neck. Didn't even want to say it aloud.

Frigga softened. "Oh, Loki – no. No, that's not what I-… Is that what you thought I meant –_ don't__ make this worse for ME_? Have I ever struck you as so selfish?"

He blinked. If not that, then…?

"I _meant_, don't let your pride run your mouth and get you in more trouble with you-know-who than you are already." The avoidance of Odin's name brought a brief smile to his lips. He and Mother had always laughed about how he'd probably instructed Heimdall to listen specifically for it and report what people were saying about him. "I was trying to warn you how very delicate the situation was. I had swayed him off execution – but barely. I was so afraid you would do something to change his mind."

When he tried to answer, his throat closed. He realized in horror that he was about to start weeping. He spun away and stood in the corner; at least she wouldn't actually _see _his humiliation.

She waited. Eventually he managed words – still facing away. "Is this better? Eternity in a cage?"

"It's a nice cage, Loki," she said patiently, "And I will do my best to get you out of it someday."

He almost had his breath back. Almost could turn to look at her.

"…Though it will probably take time. I've already played all my best cards."

He laughed at the wall. "What did you do?"

"I told him that if he executed you, I'd see to it that no one would ever call him Father again," she said calmly. "I threatened to turn Thor against him and lay a curse on my own womb." A rustle, as the illusion shifted restlessly. "Our home has not been exactly peaceful since that conversation."

He made himself turn to face her – she deserved it, whether he was crying or not. "Mother, I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to-… I wouldn't have asked you to do that."

She was smiling – but it didn't look happy. "I haven't even gotten to the part you wouldn't have asked me to do."

It wasn't possible for him to feel any worse than he did already, so he gestured for her to go on.

"I had to promise him another child. As if we have it in us to raise it properly!" She shook her head. "My hope is that we will die in time, before we've warped its affections too badly, and Thor will take it in, treat it as his own. It seems like something he would do."

All he got out was an anguished whisper of _Mother._

Her smile became even harsher. "So don't tell me no one loves you. Don't tell me no one would sacrifice for you. And don't tell me there aren't worse things than a few years in a cage."

He couldn't say _Mother I'm sorry_ again. He had to offer something better. "What do you want me to do?" he said at last.

Her answer was swift and cool. "I want you to say _Mother I love you,_ and _thank you,_ and _I'll do whatever you tell me,_ and _this will never happen again._ Can you promise me that?"

He swallowed. "I'd promise you anything, you know that. But…"

"…But if I want a promise I can rely on, I'll have to wait until you're feeling calmer and have thought this all over. Is that it?"

He nodded.

"Very well. I will come and see you again, as soon as I can. It might be some time – I can only do it when _he _is otherwise occupied."

"Be careful, Mother."

He meant it, with all his heart. But she sighed and shook her head. "Your concern comes much too late, Loki."

That hurt. Sharp stabbing pain. Before he could control himself he blurted out: "I love you," and then he held his breath. Terrified. He shouldn't have said that. If she...

But she gave him, finally, a smile that was genuine. "That, it is _never_ too late for."

* * *

The End.


	13. Nice Loki on his Deathbed

**A/N: Eeek, another sad alternative for the death scene. Sorry!**

* * *

The speed with which Thor appeared by his side was one sign. The hoarse murmur of _No, no, no_ was another.

But the kicker, the thing that told Loki for certain that he was well and truly dying, was that Thor abandoned all pretense of not caring and hauled him into his lap. "Loki-... Oh Loki..."

"Oh, stop," he gasped. "I've had worse." Then he descended into wild laughter, because of course he had _not _had worse, of course he wasn't given to brawling unless he was with Thor and until now Thor had never let him get hurt this badly. Had very rarely let him get hurt at all.

Once he got himself under control again he felt he had to explain. "When we were about seven," he whispered, "You promised I'd never fall in battle because you would always be there to protect me. And I said- do you remember-..."

But then he forgot what he was thinking of. Couldn't finish his sentence.

"Loki, please – I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hush. You didn't do this." He blinked. "Did you? I feel..."

Thor's breaths were shuddery. "That blade is poisoned. Father said it-... Are you in pain?"

"No." He felt himself smiling. "If I was, would you put me down gently? What a dream come true for you: you'd get to kill me after all, and I'd thank you for it."

Thor looked horribly upset. Loki wondered why. "Loki-... No, I- I don't want that. I would never want that."

It took him a few moments to replay the conversation in his mind and remember what comment Thor was talking about. A few moments more to puzzle out what he'd meant. "Ah. Sorry. You don't want that," he agreed. "I must have been thinking of me."

"Loki!"

"What?"

Thor gave a loud sniffle. Was he crying? "Mother... didn't survive this long," he said. A valiant effort at rational conversation. "Perhaps the poison will not kill you. You are stronger."

"I am stronger?" Painful as it was Loki had to laugh. Thor had never accused him of being stronger than anything.

He focused hard and made a rational reply. "Frost-giants are different, Thor, but they're not _that _different." It was becoming harder and harder to hold on. He could hear his breaths changing, too – there were less of them. They were slower.

He felt warm and heavy. "I think Mother didn't suffer," he volunteered – whispering now; it was easier. "I'm glad to know that."

Thor sucked in an enormous sob. "I am so sorry-... _brother._" Loki heard the hesitation. "She died quickly. I should never have kept that from you."

Mother would have wanted him to be generous. So, with a heroic effort, he did not tell Thor _Don't you dare 'brother' me now_.

"Yes, well, I'm used to it," he whispered instead. "People keep secrets from me all the time." He focused and tried to think of something useful to say. "There are caves. In that hill we tumbled down. Well. _You _tumbled. I ran."

Thor sniffled. "Caves?"

"Yes. Walls're thin there. I've never been... but I've seen maps. You should be able... to find a way off-realm. If you look hard enough."

There were a few more things he wanted to say. Beginning with: _If I can find that creature with the horns on its face I swear by all I hold dear I'll tear it a new asshole and pull its guts out the old one._

He wasn't sure he could manage that. So he stuck to: "I'll give Mother your love."

Thor was crying openly now. "I'll give Father yours."

"No." But he couldn't leave it at that. He needed to get out a few words more. It took him two tries, but at last: "...Keep it."

* * *

The End.

*Sniffle*

Sorry, guys!


	14. Loki's Sentencing

**A/N: AU for Loki's sentencing. The wiser Odin thinks he is, the more I want to punch him. And/or laugh at him.**

* * *

"To rule them as a benevolent god," Loki explained. "Just like you."

Odin blinked. Shifted in his seat. "You wished to be a god to Midgard?"

"Yes."

Another silence. Then Odin said, crisp and clear: "You _suck_ at it."

Loki's turn to blink and stare. "I- beg pardon," he said at last.

"You were not ready. When is the last time you visited Midgard to study it? You do not know their ways. You do not, it seems, even know their speech."

"I- I don't _need _to know their foolish ways," Loki snarled. "I was bringing them something better!"

Odin's assessment was short and brutal. "You approached them in a way that they found unacceptable. That was stupid; it caused them to fight you. Then you _lost_ that fight. You were defeated and humiliated by a handful of mortals."

"And Thor!"

Odin shot that down at once. "It was a mortal who beat you like a carpet and left you groaning on the floor." Loki flinched – and Odin pressed on. "Yes: I was watching. And I was disgusted and ashamed – as should be _anyone _who had a hand in trying to teach you either combat or statecraft. You were a failure on every level."

That, finally, rendered the prisoner silent. He was working to swallow; his face had colored and his eyes were bright.

Odin waited him out. He would not be allowed to just cower and accept his fate; he would have to own every inch of this.

Eventually he broke. "What will become of me?" he asked. The venom was gone from his voice; it was quiet now, and shaking. "If it's-… If it's to be execution, then please don't delay. Just…" He spread his hands. Not very far, because of the cuffs, but the gesture was clear.

"No," Odin said after a silence. "You will not be executed."

Loki sagged visibly with relief.

"Instead, you will be taken to the dungeons. There to learn patience and contentment."

A disbelieving, choked sound that was almost like laughter. "Contentment – in the dungeons?"

Odin nodded. "After enough time and deprivation, you will learn to appreciate even the smallest of pleasures when they are offered you. A meal. A candle. Perhaps a visit, someday. The greed that has driven you will wither and die, and you will learn to be satisfied."

Loki took no time at all to consider the information. "I see," he said at once. "And for how long will this… learning experience continue?"

Odin's eyebrows arched. "I would have guessed a number in centuries," he said after a while. "It would appear I was too optimistic. It could be millennia before that frenzy in you dies out. You do _not _deserve a throne. You do _not_ deserve your freedom. Frankly, you do not even deserve your life… but by the grace of your king, and through the intercession of your mother, you may keep it."

Loki bowed his head. Odin went on.

"As for the remainder of your sentence…"

Loki's head shot up. "Remainder?"

"Yes. You will sit in isolation until your blood no longer boils. But then, afterwards, you will re-learn the lessons you have obviously failed or forgotten: you'll have your books and your tutors, and you will repeat _every scrap_ of education you have ever experienced."

That was _centuries _of study. But Loki was not quite foolish enough to complain.

"Then," Odin went on, "You will be punished, for the barbarity you showed to the humans."

When Odin offered no more details, he spoke up. "Punished how?"

"The humans believe that barbarity should be punished in kind," he said placidly. "Did you not hear them speak of their code when you visited?"

"Wh-what code?"

"Their violent offenders have an eye carved from their heads." Loki started to make protest, but Odin continued over him. "You are already so blind that I think it will hardly inconvenience you. In any event, I am proof enough that you can govern regardless."

Loki ignored the prospect of mutilation and focused on something much more important. "Govern," he repeated.

"Yes." Odin raised his chin. "After your punishment, you will make reparation to the people of Midgard. And then, _after _they have come to see the good you can offer them, _after_ the memory of your cruelty and your stupidity has faded with the passing of generations… _then, _they will kneel and call you king."

Loki's jaw dropped. He couldn't even formulate an answer.

"Loki will have his throne after all."

* * *

The End.

Odin's attitude towards humans in the movie was so douchebaggy. I really think he wouldn't hesitate to use earth as a learning experience for his crazy son and just promise him lordship over earth as if it's his to give. Jerk.


	15. Creepy and Depressing Frigga Feelz

**A/N: This is creepy and depressing Frigga feelz. Loki in the dungeon.**

* * *

Loki awoke without a headache. He only got headaches every seventh day, and he didn't mind them too much because it was a helpful way of guessing at how much time was passing. The way he told time was by conjuring ice and letting it melt. Early on he had spent an hour counting the seconds and minutes aloud, watching an icicle melt, and ever afterwards he could tell time's passing by icicles.

He didn't have much ability to cast magic these days; there were wards of some kind smothering his abilities. Ice, though, seemed different. Conjuring ice wasn't any more magical than breathing was, not for _his kind._

He hated the wards though. They were the cause of the boredom that was killing him, the constant hum of too much power coursing though him trapped… probably the headaches that ruined his mornings as well.

He made his ice-clock. Twelve hours – he would stay awake for twelve hours. It seemed an impossibly long time and a terrible burden, but if he stopped requiring even twelve hours of himself he feared he would start slipping away until eventually he never woke at all. Surely that was Odin's plan.

His food came, in a bright strident flash of magic he had come to hate. It hurt his eyes and it taunted him. He would rather forego food entirely, but even when he tried that the food still appeared the next day.

He ate, because otherwise the bland grainy smell of it would sit all day in the cell and nauseate him. It was… mush, really. But he ate all of it and drank the water, and then pissed in the bowl afterwards (he really hoped they washed the dishes) because he _hated,_ even more than the appearance of the food, the use of magic to take care of his elimination needs. It was a painful, cramping suction inside his gut and it left him aching for hours afterwards.

And it was _bad magic._ He could have done better himself. What they were using was an ancient vanishing spell that _ripped_ its target away into nothingness, and he knew much gentler versions that wouldn't pull at any surrounding matter at all.

But. In any event. He put the bowl away in the corner and proceeded to the rest of his daily routine, which was…nothing.

But then, suddenly, _wonderfully,_ a sound. The heavy dungeon doors, creaking open.

He hallucinated this sound often, dreamed it, but this time he _knew_ it was truly happening. He threw himself against the cage at once, ignoring the uncomfortable magical buzz of it, and called out. "Guards? Guards – hello?"

"Not guards, Loki. It's just me."

He was weak and dizzy suddenly; slid down to his knees, still pressed against the grate. "_Mother._"

"Move," she ordered, "I know the walls burn you. I'll project in."

She shimmered into being, _right there beside him in his cell,_ and he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He knew it was only a projection but he wasted long minutes trying to touch it anyway, trying to hug it, watching helplessly as his arms slid through.

The last time he had hugged his mother was a lie. It was by Odin's bedside, where he was _comforting_ her, _protecting_ her, from the _danger _of the _frost-giants_ who were _attacking._ That hug was probably the worst, evilest, most dishonorable thing he had ever done. Treason and betrayal to its core. _Lying._

He started crying after a while, because he couldn't hug her now to help take the taste away. He would never be able to hug her again.

"Sh-sh," she soothed. Her voice was thick. "Loki please, I love you, please don't cry."

He knew he was hurting her. He had to stop. Made himself stop.

He finally turned away, nodding, and made a lap of the cell to regain his composure. "If you're wondering why I keep a bowl of piss in the corner," he volunteered after a bit, "It's because I don't like the magic they use in lieu of a toilet. I promise you it's a… sensible system. I'm not quite so mad yet that I go pissing around the room at random."

She cleared her throat. "I'm glad to hear it. Do you think you're going mad?"

"Yes." He faced her again; he was calm enough for it now. "My thinking is disordered. The monotony is crushing my mind." He laughed. "I often have dreams of you, actually. Asking if I'm mad."

"You're not mad, Loki." She beckoned and urged him to sit down on his cot. She sat beside him. "But let's use the time we have to talk of happier things. Do you want any news from outside?"

He felt his face twist hatefully. "If Thor is doing well I don't want to hear about him," he spat. "But if he's crashing and burning as king, then please, by all means, share. I'll find it amusing at least."

She sighed. "Odin has not yet given up the throne, Loki. Mostly because of _you_, I think."

He blinked. "Because of me?"

"Yes. If Thor were king I could go to him and order him, as his mother, to commute your sentence. At least to let you live on better terms than these. But Odin fears you – what he says is: _if we give him an inch, we'll awaken the next morning to find him standing over us with a blade in his hand._"

That brought a smile to his face. He wondered if Frigga was flattering on purpose. "Thank his majesty for the compliment," he said. "Though I don't exactly see how a toilet or an occasional glimpse of another living being could possibly result in my escape. But I do appreciate the sentiment."

She sighed. "No more bitterness," she pleaded. "Not to me."

He bit his lip. "You could give me news of the birds that had been nesting above my balcony," he said at last. "Did the eggs ever hatch? Did they return the next year?"

Her smile was so loving and so welcome it brought tears to his eyes. He listened to her, about his birds, about the horses, news of creatures towards which he could not _possibly _be feeling angry. It made him sad, a little, but it was well worth it.

It had been so long since he'd had news of anything. A thought crossed his mind and he _tried _to banish it, but he hadn't been having much luck controlling his mind lately. He looked into Frigga's eyes and said: "Why haven't you come to visit me until now?"

Her smile faded. She looked at her lap. "Loki, I swear there is an explanation that will satisfy you – you will know it was not inattention or lack of love, you will believe that I have missed you with every breath. I will give you that explanation before I leave… but not now, because it would ruin what time we have left. You would storm and rage. Not at me, but nevertheless, I would rather use our time for happier things."

It sounded reasonable. Doubtless the explanation was that Odin had forbidden her, which begged the question of how she had managed to come _today, _but still. She had made a request and he would honor it. "Of course," he said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. "But you will tell me before you go?"

"Of course."

They sat together a little longer – not _much_ longer, and in any event it would never have been enough. Then they heard the dungeon doors again. He grabbed for her reflexively, slid right through the projection. "Who is that?" he hissed.

None other than the Allfather himself strode into view of the cage. "Who do you think?" he said crisply. "Frigga, your time is up. Stand aside."

The projection rose – and stepped squarely in front of him as though to shield. (As though it _could_!) "This is not good for him, Odin," she pleaded. "The tampering is damaging his mind. Already he has dreams about me, he remembers-"

"Enough. It's not _supposed _to be good for him. I let you make these visits to soothe _your _heart, not his; he is not entitled to this comfort and I won't let him keep it." Loki began to understand. "Now stand aside. You know I hate spellcasting through you."

"Mother, is he saying…?"

She turned to face him. He could see tears. "I'll see you next week, Loki."

* * *

The End.

Sorry sorry sorry sorry!


	16. Hand Plan

**A/N: Teeny quicky about The Hand Plan.**

* * *

Thor was _supposed _to reach for Mjolnir with his left hand, not his right, in case Loki made some mistake with the spell and did worse than just cast illusion over it.

"Thor – just _imagine,_" he'd pleaded, "Imagine something goes wrong and now you've let me _cut off your right hand_. That's- that's Asgard's greatest weapon. It's irresponsible of you to risk it and I can't believe _I _am the one who has to be telling you so."

Thor had smiled. "Your concern is appreciated." Voice bright and booming as ever. "But I have faith in you. You won't make mistakes."

"Well- Who said it would have to be a mistake?" he'd snarled back. "Maybe I _want _to deprive Asgard of all that you can do."

Thor had frowned and cocked his head in question. "Why are you trying to make me believe evil of you?"

_Because I AM evil,_ he'd wanted to say. Or: _when have I ever, EVER done anything correctly?_ But he'd restrained himself. "All I want is for you to be practical. Let's be safe, shall we? Let's not tempt fate – or me. Left hand."

They had stared into each other's eyes for a long time. "Fine," Thor had said at last. "Left hand." Loki had felt a little let-down, and honestly that was probably the reason he jammed the dagger good and hard into Thor's midsection instead of just sticking him shallowly with it. Thor didn't seem to consider _that_ a problem, though; he cooperated brilliantly despite it and then, to Loki's simultaneous annoyance and delight, went ahead and offered his right hand anyway.

The spell went well – fortunately. Loki really did not want to cripple the fool for true.

* * *

**The End.**


	17. Sneaky Frigga

**A/N: Loki's in jail. Frigga's smart.**

* * *

After the sentencing, Frigga kept her ear to the ground. She slipped an illusion charm over herself and mingled with the guards, spying, influencing them where she could. She couldn't make much progress softening them, though - they were very angry. At his sentencing Loki had behaved like a little beast and made even more enemies than he had already. It was only a matter of time before a handful of them decided to go down to the cells one night and _teach him a lesson._

If she revealed herself and ordered them to keep their hands off, they would bow and obey – for the moment. But they would try again, and again, and she could not detect and prevent _every_ threat on her own.

She supposed she could try to use Thor. Thor might be angry enough at his brother to turn a blind eye while things were done to him, but he had a good heart. She believed that if the question were put to him directly, he would order that Loki not be harmed.

She hoped.

* * *

The dungeon doors clanged open and Thor strode through. Guards were already clustered around Loki's cell and he could hear the laughter from here. "What is the meaning of this?" he called.

They backed away respectfully, and he saw that the controls to the cell had been tampered with; the lighted panel was flashing with warning signals and was beeping softly.

"We just- we just raised the temperature a little," one of the guards said. "You know – see if we could warm up his cold heart at all."

"I see." He looked in briefly, ascertained that Loki was still breathing – though he did not look healthy; he was lying in a heap and had stripped off all his clothes and apparently upended his water jug over himself. "And, why was this done?"

They fell all over themselves to tell the story of how Loki had behaved at his sentencing. The blatant disrespect with which he had addressed the king, the rudeness he had shown his lady mother and, worst of all, the awful name he had called Thor himself.

"I see," Thor said again. He was quiet for a moment. "And… do you agree with him?"

They exploded with denials.

"Do you find me capable then, and of close to ordinary intelligence?"

Very capable, they said, and much more intelligent than ordinary.

"Then, how is it that you do not think me able to avenge my own insults?"

They fell silent. Looked at each other.

He shook his head sternly. "This," he said, "Should have been discussed with me. It is not proper for you to torment the prisoner without permission." They were murmuring sullenly, so he knew he was not finished; he was not yet sure they would cooperate. So he forced a smile. "Besides, unlike you, I know how to hit him where it hurts. Fix that heat."

Interested now, the guards obeyed quickly, shifting the controls to return the temperature to normal. "Better. Now go in there, and burn all of those books."

Loki's head jerked up at that – so, he was conscious after all! "Thor, no," he rasped. Conscious… but unwell. "Those were a gift from Mother, they're _her _books, you can't ruin them!"

Thor crossed his arms. "You are the least dependable being in all the realms. I highly doubt Mother lent you any of her books expecting to get them back in one piece." He looked to the soldiers again. "Burn them. Now."

Loki went berserk, which amused the soldiers even more than when he had cowered and sweated naked. They had to use the cell's force fields to corral him into a corner and hold him there, while they trooped in (letting a blast of truly brutal heat out in the process) and built a fire.

They couldn't hear Loki over the noise of the ventilation fan, but it was plan he was shouting and threatening. When the books were ash, though, he quieted. Slumped down in the corner and put his head in his arms. "I hate you," he said softly.

"Shut your mouth – or it's your furniture next." Thor turned to the guards and said clearly: "From now on, you come to _me_ with your plans. You do _not _have permission to start harassing him at your pleasure. Is that clear?"

They all swore that it was. "Good. Now, get back to your duties. You've wasted enough time tonight as it is."

Once they were gone he turned back to the cell. "You weren't reading those anyway, Loki," he said. "I had the impression they bored you. I have more that you might like better; I'll send them soon."

And Thor disappeared in a shower of green sparks.

* * *

**The End.**

**Again, thank you guys so much for your comments! And I am sorry for repeatedly murdering everybody's feelz. Hopefully this one helped make up for it? It's sort of happy... sort of...**

* * *

Lilith: Hi! Sure, you're welcome to post a translation if you want. It didn't show your email address where you wrote it, but if you want to write to me I'm at Yepiwentthere at hotmail dot com . To answer your questions: the "CC" line on an email is how you send it to more than one person (I think it originally stood for "carbon copy," a long time ago, when copies were made with carbon paper?), and "FYI" stands for "for your information." Also... I'm laughing insanely at the idea that Loki would be a very successful god on earth because fangirls would line up eagerly to worship him instead of ducking church every week. I think sometime I'm going to write a fic of that.


	18. Loki Does What He Wants

**A/N: Post-movie. Loki being Loki.**

* * *

Once Thor was gone, Loki indulged himself for a while. He sat on the throne, as himself, and conjured mirrors so he could see what it looked like. It looked good.

He conjured guards. A couple of girls to attend him. (Giggling girls, who whispered among themselves and couldn't take their eyes off him. The illusion was easy because the sight was so familiar. He slammed down on the thought that until today the girls' doe-eyes had always been for Thor.)

Gungnir hummed with power – he could do anything. So, he filled the hall with people. The crowds looked a little wooden; he'd had no practice controlling this much illusion at once and he couldn't be sure the people in the back were looking appropriately awe-struck, but then again he couldn't really see them anyway. Everybody knelt when he gestured for it. It felt good.

Then he conjured Thor again, and had him come to the foot of the stairs and take a knee. "Who, me?" he whispered. "Childish? Spiteful? I have no idea what you're talking about. On your face." He gestured, and Thor went down all the way, forehead to the floor, hands planted on either side of it. As far as he knew nobody in Asgard made obeisance this way at all, but there was no reason he couldn't make a rule establishing special requirements for former heirs to the throne. Thor had always been _different _from everyone else, anyway.

A faint, icy blast of disapproval from his right, and he realized suddenly that he was expecting Mother to be there, scowling at him for his pettiness. His throat closed and for a moment the crowd wavered, but he pulled himself together in time and the illusion grew solid again.

_Mother._ Off to his right.

He conjured it with his eyes closed, and when he turned she was _there,_ now smiling indulgently at the spectacle he had created. It _was_ a wonderful scene. The crowds loved him. Real or not it made him giddy with delight and ridiculously proud, and he wanted to share it with her, except suddenly his words returned to him like a bucket of icy water. _Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?_

The illusion did more than waver this time; it vanished entirely, filling the room with light and sparkles. He closed his eyes. Rubbed his temples. Pulled the ugly glamour over himself, rose as Odin and shuffled slowly out of the room.

* * *

After that one concession to his vanity, he took the glamour off only one more time. It was later that night, sitting by Odin's bedside in the big bedroom. The bed looked empty to all comers, but really, Odin lay there in his haze, deep in the odinsleep and dead to all the world.

Loki showed himself and reached for one of the cold, still hands. "Thor saved your life today," he said quietly. Already his own voice sounded strange to him. Already he missed it.

"I was going to kill you. As soon as I was certain that I could pull this off, my plan was to come back here, finish you off, and dispose of the body where nobody would find it. I still could, really."

He laughed a little. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Wouldn't shed any tears for you. And if I were ever found out, later, I would just say that you had expired during all the threat of the Convergence, that the stress had been too much for you. Wonderful son of Asgard that I am, I decided that it could not be without its king, and I assumed your shape in order to guide the people through the crisis. Then Thor abdicated. And what was I supposed to do? Of course I couldn't turn my back on Asgard then."

It was an excellent story. He knew he could tell it believably. Especially either with Thor's backing or in his absence. One would obviously be easier to arrange than the other.

"But… I have now changed my mind." He took a deep breath. "Thor said today that when you speak, he sometimes hears Mother's voice. I don't know that I believe that; honestly, when you speak all I hear is this hateful, strident _lecturing _that I've never quite managed to break through. But in any event."

He chose his words carefully. "He's right that you were her husband. That you… had some connection to her. She probably wouldn't want your death. So, for that reason and that reason alone, you can live. And sleep. If ever you awaken, thank Thor." He stood and moved away. "Goodnight, Allfather. I won't visit again." He pulled the glamour over himself again and left by a secret door.

* * *

The End!

There: two non-depressing ones in a row! *Takes a bow*


	19. Lady Loki in Jail

**A/N: Loki in prison. Featuring an appearance by Lady!Loki - and sexual content. Be warned!**

* * *

The other prisoners were crammed as many as twelve to a cell, but Loki was alone.

At first he was grateful: he did not _want_ to be shoved into a cell with eleven reeking, bleeding captives. Captives from another world, who would jabber in their own language and give him a headache as it all echoed in his mind in the All-tongue. Captives who knew each other, who would be friends or enemies together and _still_ leave him feeling left out. He didn't want to be put in with other captives; he was happy to be alone.

At first. But eventually the loneliness started to wear on him. He was too proud - he didn't pretend it was anything else - to wave to anyone and try to make friends across the hallway, but he was at least willing to seek their attention by other means.

He cast illusions over his cell to make them jealous. Nice furniture, beautiful food, scantily-clad women.

The women, of course, got an excellent reaction; the captives all crowded tight against the barrier trying to get a better look. Whistling and shouting (or so he thought; he could see their mouths moving but the sound would not carry into his cell).

He was good enough with his illusions that he could have them fucking credibly; one girl spread out on his chaise and another kneeling between her legs to pleasure her. It was effort, though, intense effort, and all he got for his pains was the drooling attention of some prisoners he would never meet... and a painful throbbing erection he had no privacy to deal with.

He eventually used his magic to block himself from their view. That seemed to work, except that the guards got nervous when they couldn't keep an eye on the disgraced sorcerer prince. They turned up the wards on the cell suddenly, which destroyed the illusion and gave everybody an eyeful of Loki with his dick in his hand.

The dungeon-wide dismay was satisfying for a second, but the laughter that followed offended him. He wondered if he would be able to finish anyway, but decided it was unlikely with the prisoners all watching him and banging on their walls demanding to have the girls back.

So, because this was definitely more interesting than being ignored, he shifted his own form into one of the girls, a voluptuous dark-haired beauty with tits to die for and a cunt that he could, after a little experimentation, derive a fair bit of pleasure from.

The men appreciated his first attempts, which mainly involved conjuring phallic objects and sticking them in himself. But that was uncomfortable. He briefly tried doing some of the things he would usually do to please a girl, but the angle was all wrong and he couldn't see what he was doing anyway. Finally he settled on rubbing himself against furniture and then his hand. It felt good and seemed to entertain the crowd.

He lost interest in being a woman as soon as he finished coming. The spectators wanted more, but he ignored them and lay down on his chaise. They kept watching, until he shifted shape into a fat old man. That got rid of them all right. Once they were gone, he returned himself to himself and pulled a blanket up.

The prisoners' attention had been flattering, he supposed, and had kept him from boredom for hours. It would be more satisfying to annoy people he knew, though. Perhaps tomorrow he would repeat the performance, but as Sif. That ought to get someone's attention all right.

* * *

The End.


	20. Thor In His Cups

**A/N: Post-movie. Thor reminisces & Loki resents.**

* * *

Thor's usual seat was taken.

He was annoyed. He knew the seat didn't _belong_ to him, but every single night for the past four weeks he had used it, and by now had come to feel possessive. (He had been on Midgard for four weeks, with Jane, because he had nowhere else to be. Odin had not sent for him, had assured him that peace still reigned and his services were not needed, and Asgard would feel too empty, now, with half of his family gone.)

The pub was quiet; the only mortals there were a few sad old drunks in their usual place at the corner. Well, them and this _stranger, _this _intruder, _this _usurper _of Thor's usual place on the center bar stool.

But. He knew he had given up the right to tell people where they might and might not sit, so he swallowed his pride and took a different seat instead. Waved to the bartender and had his usual watery beer in front of him in seconds.

The stranger turned to look at him, and slurred: "Hello."

Thor was not yet in the mood to make conversation with strangers. "Hello."

"What brings you out on a Tuesday?"

He shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to tell the truth: that he came here because he couldn't sleep unless he was too drunk to stay awake. He knew that that sounded sad and strange – and it was. But he didn't want to make himself unwelcome at Jane's by behaving in a way that she would find inappropriate, so each night when she took herself off to bed or to the lab, he left and came here to his usual seat.

Which the stranger had taken. "A thirst," he answered instead, and looked back to his beer. He did not invite the stranger to share his own story.

But the stranger went ahead and did it anyway. "Me, I lost someone," he drawled. "My brother."

Suddenly Thor's throat closed. He took a swallow. Another one. "I... too... have lost a brother," he said finally.

The bartender appeared out of nowhere to ask, wearily: "Shots?"

Thor nodded. Whenever he talked of Loki to strangers, he would insist that they raise a toast. The liquor that was poured in the small glasses burned like fire going down, but it helped dull the pain of the memories. He often cried himself to sleep afterwards, but he slept much better. He wasn't sure whether to thank the shots or the talking.

The stranger nodded. "Make them doubles," he said. He wasn't slurring his words now – perhaps he was not as drunk as Thor had thought at first. Well, at this rate he soon would be. They tossed back the drinks ("to brothers!") and then Thor launched in to his tale. He left out the bits that would strike a Midgardian as strange, and just explained that they had been close, they had fought, they had become separated. Then when they reunited they had fought more, until they lived tragedy together, and danger, and they had just finally begun to mend fences and get back to normal again when Loki was snatched away untimely.

There were another pair of drinks in front of them – again. The stranger raised one. "To Loki," he said seriously. "Nice name. Yours?"

Thor swallowed the liquor. Doubles, it turned out, burned even more than smaller shots did but they warmed him much faster. "Thor. _Yes,_" he anticipated, "It is my real name. Sir!" He waved for the bartender.

"I don't think you call them _sir_, Thor," the stranger laughed. The laugh was strange – oddly affectionate. But then, this person had just listened for twenty minutes while Thor laid bare some of the deepest wounds of his soul, so...

They drank again. By now Thor was finally beginning to feel drunk, and he relaxed in his seat a little. "Thank you for listening to me," he said. Then, in order to return the favor: "Tell me about _your_ brother."

"No." The stranger smiled, a crooked smile, and wouldn't meet Thor's eyes anymore. "No, I'd rather talk about yours. Stop mourning me, Thor." And he shimmered and sparkled, just for a moment – almost too quick for Thor to be sure what he was seeing.

_Almost _too quick. But he saw. "No-" he gasped. "Loki? Loki-! ... It cannot be..." He tried to get up off his chair, but the stranger – _Loki_, no matter what he looked like – stopped him with a glare.

"Sit down, brother, and hear me out. It's the least you can do, after you've subjected me to your maudlin weeping for the past half hour."

It _was _Loki – it had to be. Only Loki would be this cruel. "Loki, please. Are you truly here – can I see you?"

"No. What would you want to see that face for? It's an illusion, you know that now. You know what I _really _look like."

Thor blinked. Could that explain why Loki had hidden himself away? No – it made no sense. Loki was never _that _vain.

"Well... can I embrace you? Touch you at least? Please, I need to know that you're real."

With a hiss of irritation the stranger reached over and offered his hand. Thor took it, and it hummed with power as Loki's always had. He resisted when the hand was tugged free.

"There: you've touched me. Now will you listen?"

"I'll listen to anything you say," he said, feeling lighter and giddier than the alcohol could possibly explain. "And I have so much I need to tell you in return. Will you come home with me? Will you stay? You can't mean to leave me again, brother, not so soon after-"

"I said _listen,_ Thor." Loki's voice carried whiplash now. "Pay attention. I want you to stop mourning me."

"Well, of course I will! You are alive."

"That's not why. I want you to stop because that person you are mourning is an illusion. A _lie. _A brother that never was."

"Loki, we have been over this." He hoped, _hoped _that it was Loki's anger talking, his madness. He hoped that these ugly words did not spring from the seeds he himself had planted. "You are my brother and I love you. I ask you to forgive anything I said in my grief that let you believe otherwise; I was not myself after Mother was taken and I let-"

"Shut up," Loki said neatly. "I didn't need _you_ to tell me what we are and are not to each other. This has got nothing to do with anything you said after Mother died."

Well, that was _something,_ at least.

But not _much,_ because Loki went on: "But our history hardly even resembles that fiction you keep describing to the poor mortals who cross paths with you in here. Barkeep!" He gestured, and pushed another drink in Thor's direction. "To honesty."

Thor drank it, staring. At first he had worried that it was all a dream and that Loki wasn't here after all, but now, he was starting to wonder whether it wasn't a nightmare instead, whether his mind had concocted something even _worse _than the grief he felt already.

"We were _not _mending fences," Loki went on, "We were _not _getting _back to normal – _for which I am profoundly grateful, because _normal _was a soul-killing torture for me that only got worse the longer it lasted. Do you understand me, Thor?"

Thor swallowed. "No," he said at last. "I don't understand. Why have you shown yourself to me just to be cruel?"

Loki snorted. "Why not? I'm a god, not a saint."

"What?"

Loki shrugged and sipped on his drink. "You're deriving _comfort _from all this," he explained, gesturing a little sloppily around the bar. "I think you really _believe _the rosy little picture you paint for everyone. But it's not true. Why should you get to comfort yourself with it when it's a lie?"

Thor couldn't keep up with Loki on the best of days – even when he was sober. Now, though, the very best he could do was blink and say: "But you love lying."

This time Loki spoke without anger – which somehow made it worse. "You know nothing about me. Stop pretending otherwise."

"Brother-"

But that provoked a flare-up. "You never had a brother! And certainly not the adoring little shadow you think you remember. Stop mourning a fantasy." Loki dug in his pocket. "And stop drinking so damn much; even an Asgardian liver is going to give out sooner or later. Barkeep." He gave his orders, cold: "Keep pouring for him until he passes out. Once he's unconscious, call this telephone number, and his woman will come pick him up. This is payment for the liquor, and this for the inconvenience. Good night."

"Loki," he said, but Loki was already vanishing.

As it was the only gesture of appeasement still available, Thor drank what was put in front of him.

When he awoke the next morning (afternoon) in Jane's home with a terrible headache, he had no way to be sure that the meeting had ever taken place at all. He might have imagined it. He might also have imagined lying with his head on the bar, a dozen drinks later, while a cool hand rested on the back of his neck and someone leaned down to whisper _Goodnight, brother, _into his ear.

* * *

The End.

Sorry, was away for the weekend. Posting should resume now.


	21. Sucks to be Algrim

**A/N: It sucks to be Kursed.**

* * *

Algrim was suffering.

He was happy – more than happy – to serve. He knew that the best way to bring down Asgard's defenses was to loose a Kursed warrior within its walls, and he knew that of all the warriors remaining to Malekith, with the possible exception of Malekith himself, he, Algrim, was the best.

But. He had now been stabbed in the gut, for reasons not entirely clear to him. The knife had hurt. The kurse stone had hurt worse going in, and hurt even worse than _that _coming out. To add insult to injury, the stupid Asgardian guards had not even searched him when he was brought in; he could have just kept the stone in his pocket.

Malekith had apparently not wanted to take chances. It was rumored that an elf had once tried to smuggle a kurse stone into a protected city by means of shoving it up his ass. But he had quarreled with one of his friends, went the story, and half an hour outside the city gates had accidentally tensed up with anger hard enough to crack it open. It was said he had killed his friends, and broke his own skull smashing mindlessly into the city walls when he could not attain his goal.

Malekith believed the story. Algrim didn't. After all, if such a thing had happened, and the Kursed one had destroyed the raiding party he came with and then destroyed himself… who would have been left to tell the story in the first place?

But it was not his place to question, and anyway it would have been too late. Once Malekith put a hole in his abdomen there was nothing much to do but let the stone be shoved into it. Even though it hurt.

And it hurt worse now. He held the stone in his hand and wondered if the transformation would hurt even more. He suspected that it would.

Nevertheless, he did his duty. He crushed the stone in his hand.

* * *

The pain did stop, at least, once the transformation was complete. But he was still suffering – he wanted, he _needed_, to destroy Asgard's shields, to smash and tear and kill. Every step he took without bones crunching underfoot was a torment and a waste; he _itched _for battle.

He let warriors out of their cages so that he could have the joy of pulverizing them. The commotion called guards, which he pulverized with even greater relish.

One prisoner, a pale Asgardian in the cell on the end, was watching him knowingly. Trying to make contact.

But he was Kursed now, and he was not interested. He had more important matters to attend, like getting the shields down so that his blood would stop boiling with the need.

_But I'll remember you,_ he thought at the pale prisoner. _I have work to do but I will be happy to come smash you later._

The prisoner was clearly upset at having been ignored. He called something out and Algrim ignored it. He had to find the shield. He needed it. The pain had ended but he was still suffering. _Find the shield._

* * *

**The End.**

**Yeah, it sucks to be Algrim. Whuddaya think?**


	22. Visiting Hours

**A/N: Loki in jail. Gets a visitor.**

* * *

The doors creaked open, and whoever stepped down the stairs did not _clank._

Not a guard, then, or a prisoner. A visitor? Loki fought the urge to press up against the barrier and try to see.

"Mother?" he guessed. No – the footfall was too heavy. "Thor?"

When the visitor stepped into his line of vision Loki was, momentarily, at a loss for words. "You," he said at last.

"Who else would it be?" Odin snorted. "I have forbidden all others."

So _that _was why nobody had yet come to see him. He told himself he had never believed otherwise. "Keeping me all to yourself, are you?" He gave his maddest smile. "And here I never knew you cared."

"Do not take a tone with me, Loki."

"Or you'll what?" Loki laughed. "You've already ordered me locked away for the rest of my natural-... well..." He cocked his head. "Tell me something, Allfather: do you even know how long it's going to be? Do you have _any_ idea how long _we frost-giants _tend to keep ticking?"

Odin's chin rose. "I have always had a son who didn't know when to shut his mouth," he said, heavy with warning now. "It did not used to be you."

"Yes, well, you used to have a son with a spine and his eye on the crown," he snarled back. "That didn't used to be me either." It felt good to sharpen his claws on _someone_; he had been deprived of people to snarl at for weeks now.

But Odin had finally had enough. "Guards." He spoke softly over his shoulder, but the guard captain stepped up instantly. "After I've gone," he said, "The prisoner is to be whipped for his ill manners."

Loki gave a bitter smile. "Why thank you, Father. It's so good to know that you-"

"_And whipped again tomorrow._"

He shut his mouth – for a second. He had _just _decided to open it again, when Odin continued: "With your powers of healing intact I could have it done every day until the end of time without worrying for you. If you show me disrespect again, that is what I will do."

Loki believed him, and kept his mouth shut.

When Odin was at last satisfied with the length and quality of the silence, he sent the guard away. "I should not let you goad me to anger," he sighed. "I had other things I wished to discuss with you."

He made himself calm down. "Such as?"

"Before long I will sleep, or die." Odin showed no emotion at all. "When that happens, I expect your mother will campaign as relentlessly with Thor as she has with me. He has less defense against it – he will eventually order your release."

Loki swallowed. "And is that… something you'll allow?" _Or will you leave orders that I'm to be executed once you go?_

"Being asleep or dead, I don't see that I'll have much choice." Odin shrugged. "I wished to tell you in advance. Perhaps hope will drive away some of your bitterness. I feared for the realms, if you were unleashed on them as mad as you are now."

"Ah. I see." Before he could grow sarcastic again, Odin interrupted.

"To that end, I will allow your mother to begin visiting you before long. Provided you behave yourself."

"Being incarcerated, I don't see that I have much choice." _Error. That was an error. He'll have you shredded for that._

But – perhaps in response to his look of panic – Odin let it pass. "If only," he sighed.

Loki ducked his head briefly. It was the nearest to an apology he would give.

"I will go now," Odin said. "But I'll return before long so that we can talk further."

"As you wish, Allfather."

Odin stepped away from the cell… but then paused. "Oh – and Loki. One thing more."

"Yes?"

"Please try to bear your beatings with grace. It's a rare son that can embarrass his father from within the bounds of solitary confinement, but I am afraid you, of all people, may find a way."

He tried to feel properly insulted. Reminded himself that the use of _son _and _father _did not matter. "As you wish, Allfather," he said again, and bowed. But he knew his tone of voice had gotten away from him, because Odin was smiling as he turned away.

* * *

**The End.**

**So... there aren't really a lot of non-evil-odin fics out there. Or at least, not a lot where he's simultaneously nonevil _and _in-character. I did my best.**


	23. Post-Movie Depressathon

**A/N: Post-movie. Sad Thor. I'm sorry!**

* * *

After Father had bid him farewell – or, really, had _not _bid him farewell even though he plainly wished to, Thor went to visit one more place.

Or, he tried to. But he stopped outside the door of Loki's room and could not make himself enter; he had never been truly welcome in that place and had never, ever dared to enter it uninvited. He knocked – ridiculous, because Loki was dead. When no irritated voice granted him permission, he left.

He went instead to Loki's cell. For that, he had never needed permission. The other cells of the dungeon were crowded but that one sat completely open, unused. Probably until it was fumigated somehow, all traces of its former occupant erased, to make sure none of his corrupting influence remained.

Thor's heart twisted at the thought. These _were _the last traces of Loki, anywhere, and at this point they were all he would have. He opened the lock and stepped inside – all the way in. It was the first time he had done so; when he had freed Loki he had only waited by the door. He had thought it was because he didn't yet trust Loki enough to be in a closed space with him, but now, he was wondering whether the problem wasn't that he didn't like to feel the walls closing in on him like this. Thor had never been claustrophobic before, but this place was... small. Oppressive.

The walls still bore marks of spells gone wrong, failed explosions and burnings. Some of them were shaped like hands. He couldn't imagine what had made marks like that, unless Loki had attempted to actually set himself on fire. He put that image from his mind.

The blood on the floor had dried in dull brown streaks. At first he made to step over it – old blood was not a new sight to him; he cleaned it daily off his armor. But then he realized: this was _Loki's_ blood, all that was left of Loki. Thor had left it there on the floor as if it didn't even matter. Hadn't even offered him a bandage.

His eyes filled unexpectedly. He went down to one knee and touched the stains, but they just flaked against his fingers the way old blood does. There was nothing there that could give him comfort. Loki was gone, there was nothing that could be done for him now – and at the time when there _had _been something, Thor hadn't done it.

_You can cry,_ Jane had told him, crying a little herself. _People cry for their brothers, no matter how mad they were at each other. It's okay._

At the time he hadn't managed – he had been living with the knowledge that Loki was dead, or lost, for so long that the pain was nothing new to him. But this, now, was new. The realization that Loki had _not_ been dead and maybe not even lost, not then... but now he was, and Thor could not even fairly weep and long for a second chance because in truth he had _had _his second chance already and he had failed – again. Failed even worse than before, because at least when Loki fell from the Bifrost it was with Thor's hands reaching for him and Thor's screams in the air. This time...

_I will kill you._ He remembered saying it – calm and steady. Had Loki believed him? The thought was sickening. He was going to be sick, right here, on the cell floor.

With effort he swallowed down his heaving stomach and dragged himself up over to the cot. A dirty, creaky thing, without Loki's magic to disguise it. Lumpy as well. He wondered if the illusion had made it any more comfortable to lie on. He suspected it had not.

He stared at the walls. Grief was crowding in on him. _Loki_ was gone forever, and here in this little room the weight of it was going to crush him.

He had left Loki here alone to grieve Mother.

By the time he had cleansed himself of that thought, the broken furniture had been reduced to splinters and the burnt streaks on the walls were all lost in fresh bloodstains. He was surprised that his hands had given out before the walls had, but then, he supposed that as a prison this place was _meant _to withstand the tantrums of warriors who were mad and berserk.

Eventually his heart stopped pounding. His tears dried, his knuckles scabbed over. He felt lost and exhausted, and he wanted to go home but home was nowhere. Home was Mother's hand on his cheek or, in better days, Loki's shoulder pressed against his. Now where was he supposed to go?

His eyes fell on Loki's books – still stacked neatly on the rickety end table, the one piece of furniture Loki had seen fit to spare. The books were _all _stacked neatly, except for one, which rested on the others at an angle. Thor reached over to straighten it, and noticed a piece of paper sticking out.

He tugged at it. Maybe it was some notes on his reading – or a letter of complaint to the jailers – or a list of people he planned to kill – _something. _Something in Loki's own hand, something of Loki's thoughts, that he could keep with him.

It was all he had now. He had had _everything_, he had had Loki open his heart to him and call him _brother,_ and he had spurned it and cast Loki away and now he would give _anything_ for even a scrap of what had been offered.

He unfolded the paper, hands shaking. _Thor: _said the note. _If you are reading this, it means that I am dead._

He dropped it on the floor, dizzy suddenly, gasping and wheezing but unable to take in air. It was a note _for him._ Loki had left him a message.

When he could finally breathe again and see clearly, he picked it up. _...it means that I am dead. Possibly killed trying to implement some idiotic plan of yours – or more likely, killed by you because you thought I was doing otherwise. To set straight the record: I was not._

He couldn't have devised a more devastating letter if he had tried. Thor had to put it down for a moment before he could continue. _In any event, I'm sorry it didn't go as intended. I assume, if you are reading this, that you've been locked up for the treason you committed in letting me out. Father really isn't very free with his forgiveness – even for you._

He could hear Loki's voice, see Loki's smile. A bitter smile, of course, but he would take it.

_I am writing to let you know that I love you, _Loki went on, and that part Thor could _not_ imagine, because Loki would never say such things to him in seriousness. ..._despite what has happened between us recently. It is as it always was: you neglected and hurt me unknowing, and I bore it too long in silence, and when my patience ran out I exploded as I always do. The magnitude of my eruption this time frightened even me, and afterwards one thing led to another. I very much regret some of the things I have done._

Such a simple explanation, an apology obviously from the heart... this would have changed everything. If Loki had only been able to say such things to him earlier – before it was too late...

_If it matters to you, know that I went to my death wishing we had reconciled. I am sorry, brother, and I do love you and always have. Know that at least. -Loki._

He cried for a long time, without even the energy now to smash into the walls.

When he was done he folded the note back up again, and saw for the first time that there was something on the back: Loki had left a post-script. He rubbed his stinging eyes and blinked to focus.

_I cannot believe I just put such sentiment to paper,_ Loki wrote. _Now, I shall have to survive, so that I can get back to the cell and destroy this note before you find it. In other words, brother, I may have just saved our lives, despite your best efforts to concoct a plan that will risk them. We shall see. -L_

Thor wasn't sure whether that made it worse or better. Either way, he cried again.

* * *

**The End.**

**Oh my god, this was SO MUCH MORE DEPRESSING than I had planned. My plan had been for Thor to stop by the cell and find a note, and Odin!Loki to come down just then to retrieve it, and in the ensuing argument Thor would realize who he actually was. But instead, this depressathon happened. I AM SO SORRY! Maybe I'll have to continue this one just to clean it up. Loki is sure going to be pissed when he comes down and finds that Thor actually got hold of the thing. (Or, maybe that's secretly what he wanted?)**


	24. Thor's Promise

**A/N: Thor and Loki, on the ridge in Svartalfheim discussing the plan.**

* * *

They looked down as the elves filed out of the ship. In rows. And then more rows.

Loki spoke first. "This is... perhaps going to be more difficult than we anticipated."

Thor could _hear_ the reticence. The fear. "Are you afraid?" he said. In the schooled tone he had adopted for use with Loki these days, though, it sounded not like a taunt but like a question.

"Well of course I am; I'm not stupid," Loki snapped, and watched the elves a while longer. Then he said, into the silence: "But for the avoidance of all doubt: Thor, I release you from your promise."

"No," Thor said immediately, "Not a chance." Loki wanted to cancel their bargain? To back out after they had come so far? Thor would hear none of it – yes, Loki had originally promised only as far as the escape, but they had counted on him as part of the plan and he could not bow out now.

He glanced over, and caught Loki smiling.

"Stop it, Loki. This is not the time for jest."

"Jest?" The smile vanished. Loki blinked rapidly. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean,_ I need you," he explained, almost a growl. "Do not even _joke _about canceling our bargain now."

"Our bargain," Loki repeated softly, looking down at the elves again. "I see." Thor waited, confused, for an explanation of why Loki suddenly looked like he might cry. "You thought I meant to back out."

"Did you not?" Thor thought over his words. "What other _promise_ did I make you?"

Loki cleared his throat. "The cell," he said. "You said you would return me to the cell when this was over. And _I_ am saying... you don't have to. If we can buy success with my life, we should do it."

For some reason he felt it like a punch to the gut. "Loki..."

"You've always complained that I drag you down in battles." Loki was smiling again now – but it wasn't a happy smile now, it was sharp. Twisted. "You say you could be so much more effective if you didn't have to worry about watching my back and keeping me safe. Now's your chance to prove it, Thor. Are you ready?"

He knew that this was just Loki's way: cruel and bitter words, absurd accusations of coldness and neglect, his own _family_... but still. He could not let the comments pass. "Loki, you know I have no intention of buying victory with your life," he said.

"Why not?" He didn't sound bitter anymore – just calm. It was much worse. "What have I to lose? A couple of long lonely centuries by myself in a cage, brooding over all that's been taken from me? Thanks, brother, but I think I'd rather pass."

He must be misunderstanding. He must. "Pass, what do you mean, _pass_? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it would be kinder to let me die here than to take me back," Loki said straight out. "So, why don't we say our farewells now, and then not plan for me to survive the battle."

Let Loki _die_? He fought a sudden, overpowering urge to clasp Loki tight to him and _forbid _him to think such foolish thoughts. But that made no sense – they were not on such terms now, not anymore.

He finally said, as coolly as he could: "No. I promised to return you to your cell, and return you I shall."

Always before, he would have thought Loki heard what he did not say. _I will not let you die,_ and, more importantly, _I do not wish you dead. _But today, Loki just shrugged and went back to watching the elves. "We'll see."

* * *

The End.

(Yes, I sort of think Loki was being calculating here.)

Later this weekend, if my muse cooperates, I may post continuations for some of the one-shots in this series.


	25. Second-String Odin

**A/N: So I was contemplating the actual mechanics of the Great Odin Switcheroo. Did Loki pay him a giant bribe to disappear? Jump out from behind a column and conk him on the head? Trick him into crawling into a jar and slamming the lid… I seem to remember something about that in a Greek myth somewhere...**

* * *

"We found a body."

Odin swallowed. "Loki."

Loki nodded, doing his best to look sad.

"_Loki,_" Odin repeated – and this time it was an accusation. Shit! How-? "Did you think I would not recognize you?" Odin hissed. "That I, Odin All-Father, could be deceived by a pathetic little illusion charm like the one you wear now?"

He faded back into himself. "Don't you insult my illusion charms; they come from Mother," he snapped.

Odin ignored that. "What is Thor planning?"

Loki shook his head. "I won't tell you that. Or where he is, or where he's going. Do what you like to me, but that is information I will not give up."

Largely because he didn't _have _it, but Odin didn't need to know that. Let Odin think he was showing strength for once. It would probably serve him better in the long run, by winning him a little respect.

Sure enough, Odin stood straighter and threatened him like an equal. "Loki, there is nothing now to protect you from death if you stand in my way. I will ask once more. _What is Thor planning_?"

Odin wouldn't believe him now if he claimed not to know, so he might as well play defiance out as far as he could and see what happened. He raised his chin. "I'll never tell you."

Odin wavered, fell against the throne and sat down hard in it.

"Father? What-…?"

"It's nothing. It's nothing, I am… I am…"

He was slumping over, sliding from his seat. "You're falling asleep," Loki realized, and took the stairs three at a time. "What happened – did I upset you? All right, it's all right, I've got you."

"I'm… I am fine…"

"Of course you are." Loki held him around the waist and dragged him to his feet, then scooped him up like a bride. All he did was stir feebly and mumble in protest. "Fuck – Father?" No response. Fuck. The realm _could not _know about this. People would panic, and without Mother or Thor to calm things down there would be rioting and revolt. "Father – Odin. _Odin_! Can you put it off? This is a bad time for Asgard's king to show weakness. Can you just… sit up and pretend, for a few more hours?"

More mumbling.

"Shall I take that as a no?"

It would be very bad if someone walked in and saw this – the king lying limp, with Loki the traitor standing over him. "All right, then we've got to get you out of here. Stay quiet." He threw an illusion over them, disguising them as a pair of guards, and carried Odin away.

He lay him down in the master bedroom and tried once more to rouse him. "Not that I don't want the throne, Father, because I do. But this is not exactly how I envisioned assuming command, and I don't think it's going to work. Can you wake up? At least long enough to assemble the court and tell them I'm to succeed you? Hello?" He _needed _Odin's public blessing, or there would be rebellion and bloodshed. On top of the threat of Malekith. And the threat of Thor, dangerous to begin with and now possibly in possession of the aether too.

Odin's eye finally opened. "They won't… follow you," he said weakly.

"Let _me _worry about that." He was not worried. A few heads would roll, and then people would see sense.

But Odin shook his head. "There would be chaos. They cannot know."

It took Loki a moment to realize what he was suggesting. "What, you- you want me to _impersonate _you?" he sputtered. "Aside from the problem that the penalty for such a thing is a death that turns even _my _stomach… Do you even think it would work?" He felt himself sneering. "Me with my substandard illusion charms."

"Yes. They're adequate."

Loki bit down on a bitter remark about how positively _flattered _he was and how Odin was so generous to praise him so highly. He had more important things to think about – practical things. He was getting the throne, if he could make this work. "Thor. Thor won't be easily fooled." He swallowed. "He disobeyed you outright in this; I assume you're not still planning for him to become king?"

Odin shook his head. It was hard to tell if he was even lucid anymore, but Loki wasn't about to press the issue. "Good, exactly," he went on. "So: how can I fool him? Do you have a, a password or something you can give me? Something he's said to you in private, that no one else would know?"

The eye was closed, but he had the impression Odin was listening. And he _prayed_ that Odin was still awake enough to give him what he needed.

For a long while, nothing happened. Then, finally, Odin's tongue emerged to wet his old, dry lips. "Thor said… there would never be… a wiser king… than me."

Loki snorted. "Of course he did. And how very _like you_ to remember it."

Odin's face quirked briefly into a frown, but his breaths were already deepening.

Loki cast an _adequate _illusion over himself and called Gungnir to his hand. It felt even less comfortable than he remembered.

But he would get used to it in time.

* * *

**The End.**

**I mean, how _did _Loki know about that no-wiser-king comment?**


	26. Details of Aether Plan

**A/N: Ironing out the details of the Aether Plan**

* * *

They picked their way along the ridge carefully, keeping out of sight of Malekith's ship. Thor was a bit nervous that they were approaching the spot and still had no working plan, but just before he became truly worried, Loki announced: "All right: I have a plan."

Thor made sure to show no relief. The Man of Iron had instructed him in the management of his brother: friendship would only backfire; cruel taunting was the only way Loki would want to hold conversation with him. _Give as good as you get,_ Stark had advised. _This may sound crazy to a nice guy like you, but trust me, he'll appreciate it. _So, he smiled and employed the most sarcastic tone he had: "I have high hopes – your last few plans have all met with such admirable success."

Loki snorted and met his eyes. "Low blow, brother," he complained, and some color had come to his cheeks… but he was smiling.

"What is your plan?"

Loki gave an overblown wince. "Now… I hate to ask this, but this one is going to require a bit of trust."

"No." He did not even have to think about it.

Suddenly Loki was no longer fond or tolerant. "Hear me out _first,_" he snarled, "And act like an arrogant ass _afterwards._ Can you manage that, do you think?"

He frowned. He was _not_ an arrogant ass! "Go on."

"I assume you want to call down the lighting just as Malekith draws the aether out into the open. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Are you absolutely determined to do that, even if I think there's a better idea?"

One which would leave _Loki _in possession of the aether instead? Ha. "Absolutely."

"I thought so. All right." Loki heaved a sigh. "Then, for that you need to be close to him. I suspect Malekith is still rather annoyed at Asgard – and Bor's line specifically – for killing off his people, which means if he gets hold of you he won't want to kill you quickly outright. He'd rather leave you alive to watch the destruction of everything you love."

The cold, dispassionate way he said it made Thor's skin crawl.

"So, he'll _let _you be close to him. Good. He obviously won't take chances with you leaping up to oppose him, though, which means he'll likely want to do you great violence first."

Thor shrugged. "I can take it."

"I should just let you," Loki snorted. He rolled his eyes. "But, because after everything you're still my brother and I love you… or, perhaps, _because our likelihood of success drops dramatically if you're fighting injured, you idiot_… I'll use illusion instead. We'll make Malekith _think_ you are wounded before we turn you over to him."

That _did _sound much better. "But what of Jane?" he said. "It takes all my attention to call the lighting as powerfully as we're planning; I cannot protect her at the same time. And I do not trust _you _to-"

"Mother _died_ to keep her safe," Loki snarled, kicking at her. She stirred feebly in her sleep and continued to mumble. "This pathetic creature. But I won't make Mother a failure. If it costs my life I won't. Will you believe me _that _far, at least?"

Thor swallowed. He _wanted_ to trust, and did not, but had no way of knowing whether it was prudence or stubbornness holding him back.

When he couldn't answer, Loki eventually looked up. His smile was crooked and his eyes were bright. "Well, do you have any better ideas?"

Thor did not.

* * *

**The End.**

**Ok, next one will probably be a continuation of one of the earlier chapters. I have some stuff in the works...**


	27. Fandral Teases

**A/N: Muse continues to distract me with little tidbits so I can't write what I planned to. Sorry! This one is Loki & Fandral in the flying boat.**

* * *

"I see your time in the dungeon has made you no less graceful, Loki!" Fandral was cheery and friendly as ever. But the fall hadn't exactly been comfortable, and no one was offering to help him up, and he didn't feel like playing the good sport.

"What if I told you," he said slowly – from the floor, staring past Fandral's knees without looking up at him – "That what _you_ may consider harmless teasing, _I_ perceive as a personal attack and always have?"

Fandral didn't answer, and just when Loki was getting ready to look up at his face, something grabbed him under the arm and hauled him to his feet. "He would tell you to sit down and steer the ship, that's what," Thor growled, and shoved him down roughly by the steering-stick. "Now do as you promised. Take us to your secret path."

"As you wish, Thor." Dripping with hate.

After a moment Fandral came closer and stood over him. "What happened to you, Loki? You've changed."

"No." Loki finally did look up at him, and he looked _serious_ and even concerned. But it was far too little and much too late. "_This_ was always here," he said, indicating himself with a jerk of his head. "The rest was illusion. That quiet little mouse that followed you people around without a thought in his head beyond pleasing Thor? Illusion. Gone, and not returning."

"Mm. I see." Fandral was staring hard at him, and for some reason he had to drop his eyes. (He was steering, that was all! Of course he couldn't be bothered to play staring contest with an idiot.)

Then Fandral bent down and spoke into his ear. "Well, if you see _that quiet little mouse _anywhere, tell him that I miss him and convey my apologies if I've offended. And also…" He rose and said the last bit loudly enough for the whole boat to hear. "Perhaps you might consider asking him to resume charge of grooming you. Your hair was never this much of a mess, before. And you didn't smell so bad."

There! At long last, Fandral had dropped all pretense of friendliness. His tone was no longer jolly; for the first time, his taunting was cold and harsh. Just as Loki had always thought.

Oddly, having proved himself right didn't bring Loki the satisfaction he was expecting.

* * *

**The End.**

**This one was a shortie. I may be able to post again tonight.**


	28. Chat with Guard

**A/N: Loki chats with a guard in jail.**

* * *

Someone clanked up to his cell, and Loki didn't raise his head. Guards had been by to stare at him several times a day, and while at first it had made him feel exposed and uncomfortable, by now he was learning to ignore it.

He turned a page and kept reading. The guard didn't move.

After a bit he turned another page, and this time only _pretended_ to read. In fact, he was peeking out of the corner of his eye, to make sure the guard wasn't doing or plotting anything objectionable.

The guard still didn't move. Eventually, after pretending his way through another few pages, Loki put the book in his lap and looked up. "Yes?"

The guard saluted. "Forgive me, my Prince, for disturbing you. And for my forwardness. But: may I speak with you?"

He had no idea what the man wanted, and that made him nervous. "You seem to be," he said, with a chilly smile.

"Er-. Yes. I'd like to ask you a question, Prince. If you'll allow it."

Interesting. "You may ask," Loki decided. "Though I'm not promising to answer."

"Thank you, Prince." The guard stood straight. "When the Allfather passed sentence on you he said _if I had not taken you in._ I wondered what he meant by that. If you would tell me."

Loki set the book aside and stood up. Came as near to the barrier as he could bear. "That _is _awfully forward. I thought guards were supposed to be blind and deaf to what goes on when they attend Odin at a private meeting."

"We are." The guard swallowed. "But I wasn't there to attend Odin. I was there to attend you."

"Mm. True enough." Loki still had not decided what to say, so he played for time. "And have you all been gossiping about it since? About what Odin said to me?"

"No, my Prince. To my knowledge no one has spoken of it – or even noticed."

"But it's been eating away at _you_. _You_ noticed. Why?"

The guard was still standing at attention and Loki didn't tell him to relax. _If I have to be uncomfortable, so does he._ "Because I have heard words to that effect my entire life," he said steadily. "My true father died in battle when I was very young, and my stepfather has never let me forget it."

"Ah." Still he hesitated.

But what was he going to do – deny it? Claim Odin as his kin? Disgusting. "Mine as well," Loki said at last. "Died in battle. Odin hacked through my homeworld when I was a baby and decided for some reason to adopt me. Only, he neglected to mention as much until two years ago. As I'm sure you can imagine, the truth came as something of an unpleasant surprise." The guard didn't speak right away, and in the silence Loki felt compelled to add: "I _am _royalty." Then he shrugged. "Just, not..." He spread his hands.

"What are you?" the guard asked softly. "Vanir?" And then he looked horrified with himself. "Forgive me, my Prince. I did not mean to pry."

Loki waved off the apology. "Think larger, and colder, and much more blue." There was no point trying to conceal it now; basic math would have let him figure it out anyway. "What war did you say your father died in?"

The guard didn't answer, but his eyes were widening and that was answer enough. Loki stayed silent and just _watched,_ as the man's awkward formality transformed into something much more satisfying: fear and shock... mixed with fascination. He guessed the next question before it came.

"Your Royal Highness. Could I ask-"

"No." Loki cut him off. Grinned at his look of startlement. "You want to see what your father saw just before a blade of ice took his head, don't you," he guessed. "You want to stand face to face with the monster."

A slow, fearful nod.

Loki almost wanted to oblige. The respect people showed him as the younger son of Odin, the _little brother_ of Thor, had never satisfied him. It had felt halfhearted at best, and sometimes outright condescending. But this was... real. He liked it. Did he like it enough to transform himself into one of those _things _and let himself be gaped at? He was not sure.

"Not today," he declared at last. "But I will think about it. You may ask again tomorrow."

The guard could hear that he was dismissed. He bowed – too nervous, now, to take his eyes off Loki as he did, and backed away from the cell. "Thank you, Your Highness."

No more _my Prince _out of this one! But that was all right; Loki had never gotten much out of being Asgard's prince anyway. Foreign royalty, an alien before whom it was proper to cringe and cower... he might like this better. He would consider it.

* * *

**The End.**

**BTW, this was the second update today – and neither is what I'd intended to write! It's like my brain is punishing me for attempting to have a plan.**


	29. Chat with Guard II

**A/N: Continuation of chapter 28 (Chat with Guard).**

* * *

The guard actually did come back the next morning. Loki felt a smile tugging at his face: he was glad to see him.

… He was _glad_. To see one of his _jailers._ Glad for even that scrap of company – and the tiny pitiful sop to his pride.

Was he so easily bought?

He hated the thought, and fought back hard. "Have you nothing better to do than court me?" The cold mocking tone came easy. Unfortunately, he couldn't even _pretend _it was the guard he was disgusted with; he knew exactly who he was _really_ looking down on and the knowledge did nothing to improve his mood. "Why have you come – are you hoping I'll invent you some more stories?"

The guard blinked. "Invent?"

"You didn't _really _think I was Jotun, did you?" He laughed. "You know what they are. Did you actually think the Allfather would have raised one of those beasts in his house – with his _son_?"

This time the guard was silent.

"I was _lying_ to you," Loki said. He was lightheaded with hate and he loved every second of it. "It's what I _do_."

The guard shifted. Frowned. "No. Your Highness, I believe that you... can show me what you said. And I want to see."

Now, that reminded him of Thor. Stubbornly refusing to believe the worst of him, insisting that all was well when it was not. Painting some rosy picture and then refusing to see the ugly truth.

"And you think seeing would _help_?" He could feel the malice rolling off himself. "Look at you, grovelling before some prisoner for scraps – imagining what? That it will forge some sort of _connection_ with this father you long for? Give you back what you've lost?" With the harshest, most crushing sneer he had... and still the guard didn't look _quite_ crushed enough to satisfy him. So he went on. "You want to see what he saw... imagine yourself in his place. But why - do you think that would _impress _him? He saw a bit more than one lone beast shut up safe in a cage, I'd think."

That seemed to draw blood – good. He watched the guard breathe deep for a few minutes and win back control. Eventually the man managed; Odin's warriors were well-trained, after all.

"I don't know what he would think," the guard said evenly, "Because as I told Your Highness yesterday he died when I was a baby. I just wanted to see. That's all. If you won't allow it, then you won't. Forgive me for disturbing you." He saluted and turned away.

Loki choked down a sudden burst of panic. That was _it_? His only visitor, his only conversation, was about to walk out and there was no guarantee that he would ever return. This wasn't Thor, who could be savaged over and over again and would still come back for more (until, suddenly, he _didn't_.). If he drove the guard away now he might not get another chance.

Unacceptable. Loki might be proud, but he wasn't stupid. "Guard: stop," he snapped. The guard stopped.

But he certainly wasn't going to _apologize._ He swallowed. "Ask again tomorrow."

* * *

**TBC. (There will be one more part of this, posted tonight or tomorrow.)**


	30. Chat with Guard III

**A/N: Continuation of Chapter 29. This is Chat with Guard part III.**

* * *

Two days ago Dagr had found the prisoner receptive to his overtures, and yesterday he'd gotten sawn off at the knees. The only difference he could see was his approach: the first time he'd waited politely by the cell for Loki to acknowledge him, but yesterday he'd stepped straight up without giving Loki a chance to choose his moment. Maybe that was it? Maybe Loki didn't like to be come upon unawares; he didn't have much privacy at all down here and maybe any encroachment was hard to swallow.

So this time, when the big doors were opened for him Dagr stepped in, let them close behind him, and paused at the top of the stairs. "Prince Loki?" he called down. "May I come speak to you?"

A long silence. Then…

A _growl._ A deep, rumbling noise that came from no Asgardian chest. He froze.

Then it _spoke._ The tone was soft, as if the creature meant to speak quietly, but the sound was loud and echoed through the dungeon. A grating, gravelly sound. "_Wait._"

Dagr made himself answer. "Yes, Your Highness."

He waited, a while, and could hear a whooshing noise that must be the creature's breaths. Dying things breathed like that. So did fat sleeping things, just before they started to snore.

(It was a wonder frost-giants managed to sneak up on anything. And yet they _had_. Or so Dagr had been told. He wondered if perhaps he had been lied to... And then he realized that he had been mis-imagining Jotunheim, picturing vast _silent _wastelands, when really he should be imagining whistling wind and crackling ice. Noisy. No wonder the giants weren't quiet; they wouldn't be able to hear one another at a softer volume.)

It had been some time. He tried again. "Prince Loki?"

Again: "_Wait._"

Then some sounds of movement, and some gasping and grunting, and a moment later Loki's voice – his old, familiar voice – floated down the corridor. "I'm afraid I've changed my mind," Loki said. "You may come down now."

Damn. Well, at least he now knew for certain that Loki could, if he chose, grant his request. After yesterday he hadn't been sure; the younger prince really was a known liar and insane to boot. And it was such a good point: what _had _Odin been thinking, to raise a giant up next to his boy?

Loki was standing stiff by the barrier, feet apart, hands by his sides. He looked like he was gearing up for a fight. "What will you do," he said, "If I give you what you ask for?"

Dagr shrugged. "Just look."

"Will you tell anyone?"

"No."

"Will you do violence?" He sounded more curious than concerned.

"No. Not unless… you try to do violence to me."

Loki's posture changed: he put his legs together and relaxed his shoulders, rolling them back so that he could clasp his hands behind him. He no longer looked dangerous now, just… prim. He tilted his head, arched his eyebrows, and looked around at his cage. "How exactly do you imagine I would do that – in any form?"

"I, I don't. I'm just saying, Your Highness. If you don't attack me, I won't attack you. Regardless of… what you look like."

Loki frowned. "It's not a matter of _look like,_" he snapped. "It's not an illusion. I'm happy to _look like_ any form you choose: see?" He tossed his head and suddenly was a female. Then an elf. Then a… Dagr had no idea what. Then a Jotun, just for a moment.

"See?" Loki said, looking like himself again. "That was illusion. I have no hesitation about wearing glamours of any shape whatsoever. But what you ask is… different."

Dagr nodded. He could grasp the distinction, he supposed, though it certainly didn't seem as significant as Loki was making it sound.

"_No one_ has seen me in-…" Loki stopped abruptly and took a slow breath. "No one has seen what you're asking for," he said instead. "Including me."

He sounded hesitant – unsure. And the minute he _realized _it, said a sudden flash of intuition, he would turn nasty again and try to scare his visitor away.

So Dagr kept his face blank and polite. "Would Your Highness like a mirror?"

Loki blinked. "Yes… yes, I would," he said at last. (With determination. It didn't sound like he would _like _it at all.). "My thanks."

Dagr could count on one hand the times any of the royal family had seen fit to _thank _him for anything. Generally, whatever he did was his duty – that was all.

He bowed briefly. "You're welcome, Your Highness. Er… I can't put a mirror into your cell. Nothing can be put in there besides the furniture that's there already."

"Clearly," Loki said, crisp. "Or else I would just be able to conjure a mirror myself."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

Loki was frustrated with him, he could tell that. Because he was slow. Well, he had never claimed to be the prince's intellectual equal, and if Loki was _bored _with his company he had only to say so. "I'll get a mirror and set it up here in the hallway."

"Yes, do that."

"And then… I'll come back tomorrow?"

Loki made a stiff little motion before he turned away. Dagr took it as a nod.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Sorry, it will be one more bit before this is wrapped up. And now the guard has a name. Yay guard!**


	31. Chat with Guard IV - the end

**A/N: This is the end of the Chat with Guard chapters. (And, it's the second update today. Make sure you didn't miss this morning's.)**

* * *

Loki stood scowling at his reflection. His true reflection. It was a lie, he knew that, but until he'd let his glamour fall he had no idea how _much_ of a lie.

He was beyond skinny these days; one would almost say _skeletal._ His hair (which hung almost to his shoulders; did they plan to _never_ allow him to cut it?) was matted. Knots, dirt, dried blood. Very attractive.

"Hello? Guards?" he said cautiously, but there was no answer and nothing stirred. When he was confident he was alone, he stripped off his plain linen clothes and took a long hard look at himself naked.

More bones. Some broken and healed in lumps… some broken and yet unhealed at all. Midgard's green beast had done an excellent job. He found himself very grateful that in the time between his capture and his binding he'd thought to heal up some of his more grievous injuries; his skull had been cracked and some of the injuries done his insides might have eventually killed him.

He poked at a lumpy rib. If only he'd had the energy to fix that too. It still pained him to take deep breaths, which was one of the reasons he had thrown less tantrums down here than expected.

The bruising was spectacular, a rainbow whose like (even after a childhood of "scuffles" with Thor) Loki had never seen before. Patches of browns and deep reddish-purples, the pink of scrapes and scars, black and blue spots without number. Some yellow and green parts, as well – he _was_ healing. Would heal fully in time, especially if they took to feeding him a little better and relaxing the stranglehold on his magic. He looked at the injuries for a while, glad to _see _them finally, to prove to himself that all his pain was not imaginary.

But. Dwelling on his injuries was not what he was here for.

After having touched the Casket of Ancient Winters and having felt it transform him, melting away what he had always considered to be his _self_… Loki knew what to do. He could do it. The only question was: would he?

First, he threw on a careless Jotun-shaped glamour. He waved at himself in the mirror, struck poses, made a face. That much was nothing new. (He had done it a hundred times as a child, leaping onto Thor's bed in the middle of the night with a growl and a burst of frost, scaring him half to death. A few times he had even gotten Thor to piss himself. It was great fun, but it had had to stop once Thor got big enough to break his nose with a single flailing, panicked punch.)

It wasn't his _looks_ that were a problem. He dropped the spell and stood for another moment au naturel, hugging himself with his skinny arms and telling himself sternly that it was about time to find a way to start exercising in here.

But. Dwelling on his poor physique was not what he was here for either. In a few minutes that damned curious guard would be visiting, and if Loki wanted his continued attention, he would probably have to oblige him. He took a breath and finally just _did _it.

The change didn't hurt or frighten him; he had done it just yesterday. But still. To actually _see _it, to see himself change into that _creature_ and have it feel… not like a glamour, a deception he pulled on over himself for protection, but… feel _real_…

"Hello," he whispered. Or-… tried to whisper. Damn, the voice was loud.

The thing waved its hard bony hand at him. He could hear creaking as he moved, and when he turned to see why he heard his neck creak too. Hmm. He touched the blue (_shell_) skin and it felt hard and smooth – ah. A thin layer of ice was springing up all over him, moisture freezing on him right out of the air. This was not Jotun air.

He creaked his way back around to look in the mirror. Just _looking_ was not so bad – it hardly seemed real, did not seem like himself. This giant's skin had less ridges than most he had seen. Its eyes were that deep (_blood_) ruby red that was so disconcerting in battle.

It was bony, but Loki couldn't discern any bruises. Unless those darker patches…?

He leaned a little closer, and accidentally put his face too near the barrier. In this form the burn was _agonizing,_ not just the unpleasant little buzz he was used to, and he yelped and stumbled away clutching at himself.

It was at that moment, of course, that the big dungeon doors opened. He swore and answered the guard's careful greeting with a deep hearty "_Wait_."

He would admit – grudgingly – that there was something to be said for the Jotun voice box. The guard stopped in his tracks and stammered apologies.

Loki knew that he was breathing hard with the pain, and before long the guard asked him whether everything was all right.

"Yes," he growled. "I just burned myself on the wards." He had to speak slowly, or the echo made his words unintelligible. "Give me a moment."

"Of course, Your Highness. I'm sorry." After a bit the guard added: "Can I get you anything?"

Loki snorted. "What – ice?" The Jotun laugh was… terrifying. He stopped fast and told himself not to do it again. By now the pain was becoming manageable, so he straightened up and came close to the mirror again. (But not, of course, _too _close.) The blue face was still steaming, but even as he watched, the last of the dark splotches were clearing up. Jotuns healed fast, evidently. Magic or not.

"All right," he said. "You may come down."

The guard descended the stairs slowly, made his usual little bow, and came right up to the cell. Swallowing hard. "I've never… seen one up close before."

Loki held still and let him stare. "Now you have."

The guard's head tilted. "Is it… different?"

He wouldn't _mind_ it nearly so much, if it weren't. "Yes."

"Strange?"

"Very." He backed away and gave himself some space. Turned away.

Before long the guard spoke up again. "They say Jotuns are huge, and stronger than we are."

"I understand I am small for a frost-giant." Loki bent and swiped lazily at his table. It flew across the cell and shattered against the wall. "Apparently still strong, though."

"They say Jotuns can… make… clubs of ice."

A slightly trickier request. Loki held up an arm and closed his eyes. He remembered what it _looked_ like, the ice growing up around the giants' hands. He wouldn't have been able to name a _muscle_ that did it, or a particular _spell_, but…

When he tried, the ice bloomed effortlessly. He opened his eyes and stared at his hand – or, rather, his _club._ "Apparently _they_ are correct," he rumbled. He tried to flex his hand, and frowned. "Do they say how a Jotun can get rid of his ice club?" He turned, eyebrows arched. (Or, they _would _have been arched, if Jotuns had eyebrows. Did they have some other kind of expectant expression?)

"Er-. No, Your Highness. Sorry. Maybe it just… melts?"

Loki sighed and shook his arm around. "This is going to make reading very difficult." He left the laughter to the guard, because his own was so unpleasant to listen to, and then tried smashing his hand against the wall. Ice flew, and he was able to flex and shake away the remaining pieces. "Much better."

The guard's eyes were still glued to him, and now he was starting to feel self-conscious. "Have you seen all that you wished to see?" he asked at last.

"I, um, yes, Your Highness. I would watch longer if you'd let me, but, but yes. I've seen. Thank you." The guard started to move away, but paused after just half a step. "Are you being fed enough? Is it… even the right food? No one knows that you're… you know."

Loki shrugged. "I am constantly hungry."

"Well that's-." The guard heaved a sigh. "You should have _said_ something. I'm happy to bring you extra."

He shrugged again – feeling a little defensive now, for some reason. "I imagine that if Odin wanted me well fed he would have said so."

The guard's turn to shrug. "I don't need to go to His Majesty about this at all. We tell the kitchen how many portions to send down every day, and no one actually counts to see whether it matches the number of prisoners. When I'm on duty, I'll request an extra from now on."

"Mm," Loki rumbled, and ducked his head. "I thank you."

"Not a problem, Your Highness."

Loki changed back then. He took a moment longer with his glamour than was strictly necessary, so that the guard could get an eyeful of what condition he was _really_ in, and then pulled the tidy illusion up and straightened his illusory buttons. "Honestly," he said. "Thanks."

The guard bowed. Polite, respectful.

_Stupid._ "You know you're an idiot," Loki said suddenly. He couldn't help himself. "_Everything _in this castle is politics, everything is noticed, you are being tested by someone every day of your life. And you, right now, are failing."

"Failing how?"

"This." He gestured between them. "That." To the mirror. "You're doing favors for a, a-… well, you saw!"

The guard didn't answer.

"Allow me to-… what's your name?"

"Dagr."

"Allow me to give you a piece of advice, Dagr. You should throw your support to the _victor._ Don't make friends with failures. Or monsters." His voice shook on that last one. He was going to _kill_ himself for that.

The guard – Dagr – was silent for a while. (Loki wondered whether he'd actually managed to get rid of his visitor after all.) Finally he nodded. "Thank you for the warning, Your Highness," he said. "But I don't think I am."

* * *

**The End.**

**Ok, done with the guard. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.**


	32. Loki & Jane AU Plan, Part II - the end

**A/N: Continuation of Chapter 11 – Loki & Jane AU plan. **

**Guys, I am sorry about this! It was originally heading for light and silly loki/jane quasi-sex ("Do you have any idea how insulting it is when I do something like that for you and then all you can say is _Malekith_?" "You have two choices, Loki. Shut up and do it again, or shut up and let me go to him. Either way, shut up."), but then I edited that out for ratings reasons and instead, this dark disturbing fic sprung up to take its place. Sorry! The only upside is, I got to write some possessed!jane, which was fun**.

**WARNINGS: Violence, but you don't see the graphic stuff. Refs to sexual acts with unspecified - but possibly substandard - levels of consent.**

* * *

Some time later Loki cleared his throat. "Silence is not helping," he murmured, as they took a sharp turn.

Jane glared up at him, still sprawled out on the floor. "I hate you."

"You can still talk to me."

She swallowed. "He's really messing with my head. I thought I wanted to screw you."

He didn't even look in her direction. "There may still be time for that."

"Screw you!"

Loki laughed, and just then whipped the ship around a tall pillar of rock and took off in another direction. "Is it helping that we're putting some distance between us?"

"No," she whispered to the floor. It wasn't helping. Malekith was calling. She was on fire with want; her thoughts were disintegrating. She tried to catalog. "I'm annoyed with you. Hungry. Other than that he is _all I can think of._" Her own voice scared her; it was shaking with emotion she knew she wasn't really experiencing. "I can feel I'm falling apart. I won't be this rational for much longer."

"Mm." Finally he glanced down at her – for just a moment, not really long enough to be read. "Your mind is wasted on Thor," he sighed, "And his simplicity is going to drive you mad. On an unrelated note: I'm concerned that the damage he does you will be permanent."

She tried to understand. "Thor?"

"No. Malekith. Hang on." Another sharp turn. Loki twisted over his shoulder to look at the elf ship. "I have no idea what effects his pulling will have on your tiny little mortal mind."

Suddenly she thought of Erik. Months later, and despite pills by the handful and a team of top-notch doctors he still couldn't even hold a coherent conversation. "Well – make him stop!" she gasped, yanking at the chain between them. "Loki! Let's, let's go to him. Or _something_. We can't just sit here and let my mind be destroyed! _Loki_!"

"I hear you," he said. Totally calm. "But we've got bigger problems. They've deployed their smaller ships and I can't outmaneuver those."

Fear helped focus her a little. "What are we going to do?"

"Abandon this ship and hide among the rocks," he said, without slowing their speed. "My magic will help. Open your mouth."

She did, confused, and he looked away from the road (sky?) just long enough to conjure something with his free hand and toss it to his left. She realized half a second in advance that it was a cloth and he was going to gag her with it, but before she could close her jaws again his fingers were between them and he was stuffing the cloth in. Both her hands yanking at his wrist were not strong enough to stop him, and he locked his legs around her so that she couldn't even try to scramble away. Once he'd gotten the whole rag in a blast of magic sealed her mouth shut around it and now she couldn't even snarl that she hated him.

"Sorry," he said, "But we can't have you calling out to the elves when they catch up. Landing now; hold on."

He braked suddenly, and when the ship slowed he let go of the steering stick and stood up, dragging Jane with him.

He wrapped both arms around her – an uncomfortable twist, given the cuffs – and said into her ear: "Oh, did I say landing? Sorry, I meant:" and jumped out of the ship.

With the stupid magic gag she couldn't even scream right, though she tried, and she squeezed her eyes closed _knowing _that the fall was going to kill her. But it didn't; the landing jarred like an old roller-coaster but when it was done she took stock and realized she was unharmed. She replayed what seemed to have happened: Loki took the landing on his feet and rolled, at least three or four times judging by how dizzy she was, but he'd stayed curled around her and she hadn't even touched the ground.

Now he was lying flat on his back, stirring weakly and swearing. _You okay?_ she wanted to say, except she _couldn't _because of his stupid magic.

(_Malekith was waiting for her. The shackles were a problem but if she could find something sharp she could cut Loki's stupid hand off and run. It didn't matter that she had no idea where she was; Malekith would find her. He would swoop down and take her away and-_)

"I'm all right. I assume you are as well?" Loki was getting up.

She pulled on the chain. _Let me go._

"Is he still interfering?"

Interfering was such a negative way of looking at it. He was still... _there._ She could feel his want and it felt just like hers. He was home.

Loki heaved a sigh and started moving among the rocks, yanking her after him without much gentleness. (He did lengthen the chain between them a bit, which at least meant she could walk without _touching _him, but still.) "I'll take that as a yes. I'll find us a hiding spot first, then see if I can help you shake him off."

She didn't _want_ to shake him off; she wanted to go to him and hold him and keep him glued tight to her forever. But given the gag she couldn't exactly _say _so, so she just shut up and let herself be dragged along.

"This will do. Get inside." He pushed her into a cave and stepped in after her. Did something with his arms that she recognized as magic, and then suddenly the mouth of the cave was shimmering. "Illusion," he explained. "They'll walk right by this and see only solid rock. It won't pass a more stringent examination once Malekith comes himself and can sense you, but if his minions miss us on the first pass it will buy some time."

She glared. _I hate you._

"Now. Let's see what we can do about your little problem." He came close to her, much too close, and she realized all over again how _tall_ he was and how powerful. He'd be fairly terrifying even if she _wasn't _chained up and gagged and half-crazy and alone. But she was.

"Sit down."

When he yanked, she had to. She knelt, and he sat cross-legged opposite her, and she tried to be glad that at least he wasn't towering over her anymore.

"There are spells I could try that might protect you," he began. "But I stress _might._ And I am concerned that if I meddle with your little mind and it winds up damaged – by me _or _by Malekith – I'll be blamed. Thor will have my head. So." He spread his hands, which of course almost pitched her over sideways. "I am _not _going to use my seidr to tamper with you."

She could hardly pay attention, because she was so busy fighting the urge to leap up and charge for the door. Not that it would help anyway, considering this condescending ass had _chained _himself to her.

"Instead we'll do something much simpler." He smiled at her, and _that _got her attention all right and not in a good way. "Malekith is apparently co-opting your desire, your capacity to _want._" A yank on the chain sent her barreling into him, and she found herself gathered up into his lap despite her best attempts to struggle. "Two can play at that game, don't you think?"

* * *

It didn't take Thor very long to break out of jail. Walls were not meant to contain Mjolnir, and Odin had shown surprisingly little interest in devising a more effective means of incarceration. Perhaps he had come to realize the wisdom of Thor's plan.

(Or, perhaps he was so convinced that existence would end that he simply no longer cared.)

In any event, Thor broke free of the palace as soon as the guards turned their backs. He smashed his way into Heimdall's cell and got Heimdall's best approximation of directions – he had seen flashes, he said, of Loki and Jane. But Loki was now concealing them with magic, and he did not know exactly where they were.

Still, staying in Asgard was certainly not going to help, so Thor went after them anyway. He retraced the path Loki had set out of the city. When he got to the place where he had been unceremoniously _pushed_ from the boat, he spared a moment to glare down, but his flight did not slow. He had seen Loki fly the craft into a small crack in the wall up ahead, and he would need all of his height and speed to reach it.

He found the crack. He followed the path. He found himself spit up into Svartalfheim in the middle of nowhere, with no living creature to be seen.

Still, he knew he was on the right track: a faint smell of burnt fuel told him that an Asgardian ship had passed this way. He swung Mjolnir and took flight in the direction that Heimdall had suggested.

He found the broken Asgardian ship. He would have worried, but as he flew he had seen elves prowling, hunting, and he knew that Loki and Jane had not yet been caught.

(He was very glad, now, that Jane was in Loki's care. Thor might _trust_ his friends more than his brother, and certainly they would be quicker to lay down their lives in Jane's defense if the situation required it, but... if he had to choose one person in all the realms to simply _keep Jane alive_, by fair means or foul... it would be Loki.)

Likely it was magic that kept them hidden. Thor decided to call out, quietly so that the elves wouldn't hear him… but as an added precaution he didn't use words, but instead the whistling code that he and Loki had devised together as children. As it echoed through the rocks it would be less noticeable to strangers than speech.

He heard an answering whistle, and picked his way across the rocks to follow it. The wind made it hard to pinpoint the source of the sound, but before too long he found a place where the rocks smelled of Loki's magic and when he held very still he could hear, faint and muffled: "Thor's coming. Hush. I won't let him have you."

What?

He slapped against the rocks until one was not real, and he tumbled through an illusion into the cave behind.

Jane was there. But-

She was standing upright against the far cave wall, spread-eagled, _bound that way_. Her Midgard trousers were pushed halfway down her thighs and Loki knelt in front of her, with his hand-

"_AAAGH!_ " Thor had crossed the cave in two huge strides, bellowing before he could remember that they were supposed to be quiet. He seized Loki by the shoulder and threw him against a wall, and before he could recover, fell on him for true.

* * *

She was twisting, twisting, twisting. It was hurting her wrists; the magical cuffs had been comfortable at first but now she was scraping determinedly against them and pulling until her actual _bones_ ached.

Still she couldn't get free. Malekith was _near_; he could _find_ her, if only she could call out to him.

Maybe she could find a way. The rag in her mouth had started to come unstuck; Loki had loosened his magic seal when she'd had trouble breathing, and now, if only she could focus hard enough to put her tongue to use, she could spit it out. She fought. Worked her jaw against the binding, blew with all her strength, pushed and pushed.

Her lips came apart suddenly and the rag went flying. "_Help me!_" she shrieked. "I'm here, I'm in here, come get me – _help me_!"

A movement in the corner caught her eye, and she recognized Thor – kneeling with his back to her, straddling something, where he'd been for a while now actually, pounding down punches that shook the floor. But her screaming had gotten his attention, and he was getting up, all spattered and smeared with the blood of whatever he had been working on.

The blood excited her; she _wanted_ it, but it wasn't _really_ what she wanted; it was a distraction; her body was lying to her again. What she really wanted, what she needed, was: "_Malekith!_" She closed her eyes and howled for him. "Come get me! Malekith! I'm in he-"

"Jane!" A hand over her mouth and a hiss in her face shut her up. "Jane, stop – he'll hear you!"

Her point exactly! She would have rolled her eyes at him if she weren't too busy trying to struggle out of his grasp. And the chains. She liked his grip though; it was firm around her jaw and his palm was pressed against her mouth and if she licked at him she could _taste _it, sweat and dirt and blood.

She shoved against him with her hips, but he wasn't cooperating and she couldn't get any friction. She snarled and struggled harder, which made him press against her to try and hold her still, and _finally _his thigh was between hers and she could rut against it.

"Jane..." Now he was almost _whimpering._ How pathetic.

Not pathetic. _Sweet._ He was worried for her. Thor was worried for her. She rubbed harder, and her sense of urgency lessened a little now that she was actually taking steps to satisfy her craving. _Thank God._ Maybe now she could think through a coherent sentence.

Now that she was done screaming and the earth-shaking pounding had stopped, the cave was mostly quiet.

So she was able to hear clearly the wet wheezing laugh from the floor: "Do you like her better that way, brother?" The words were mushy and indistinct but she recognized the voice.

_Loki._ She'd forgotten about Loki. Where had Loki gone? Before, he'd been all over her, purring to her with that famous tongue of his and sticking his hands where a brother-in-law's hands weren't supposed to go. Now he didn't sound cool and knowing at all anymore though, he sounded... horrible.

She put two and two together all of a sudden and went icy cold: that was Loki over there on the ground. That limp heap that Thor had been sitting on and-...

She stopped licking the hand in front of her face and suddenly lost interest in rubbing up against Thor at all. Loki was... How was he even still _alive_? She had seen the punches rain down, Thor's full strength behind them. It would have killed a human. Any _one_ of those blows would have killed a human. Crushed its skull into pieces.

Her mouth was still covered up, so she twisted her head hard to free herself. "Loki," she said quietly. Hoarse because of all the screaming she had done. Was he all right?

She felt sick, and terrified... and desperate. She had to get free. Things would be _fine, _if she could just get away.

"Loki will not touch you again," Thor said grimly. "I swear it."

Another weak huff of laughter from the floor, and it struck her as important so she tried to pull herself together and remember what she had been about to say. "Loki was..." she frowned. What had she been talking about?

"Helping." Loki was barely audible. "Explain it to him or he'll... come finish the job." That last bit was just a gasp. She could make out the words, but they had no meaning. Job, what job? The only _job_ she had was freeing herself so she could _go _to him, to what she needed, before the need killed her.

"Malekith," she whispered. She had remembered she was supposed to be quiet. "I need Malekith."

_Malekith. _ She sucked in a big breath so she could start shouting it, but then Thor's hand slammed back against her face, gripping even harder than before. "Jane? Jane-, Jane look at me. _Look_ at me!" He shook her. "What is he saying – what does he mean, _helping_?"

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the shaking – it helped ground her, remind her where all her body parts were. She thought she was about to fly into pieces.

"Jane! Answer me!"

Loki let out a wet heaving cough. "Would you… believe… anything… she tells you right now… anyway?"

_She._ Jane. They were talking about her. She tried to listen.

Thor was still trying to hold conversation. "Jane: what's going on? You have to tell me..."

"Rub her," Loki rasped. "It helps... drown out his call."

_Loki._ Loki's voice had been her anchor all day, all year, all _forever _since this had happened to her. However long it was. She nodded. Loki's hand was relief, and she wanted it back but now when she arched for it it didn't come. She whimpered.

"_Jane?"_

She twisted her head away from Thor again and this time remembered to speak quietly. "Loki. Hurry up – do it again. Please. Hurry _up._"

But nothing happened, and she struggled, and _screw_ talking quietly! "Hurry up!" She shrieked it. "And let me _out_! Let me go to him! _Malekith_!"

Malekith. Malekith, malekith. _Malekith._ Malekith malekith malekith; malekith. Malekith.

* * *

Loki had been lying still as death for two hours. Thor was numb, only watching him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Thinking of nothing, remembering nothing, only watching and waiting for the moment of awakening.

It was not the first time he had waited by Loki's bedside in the healing room. He knew what to expect: it would be slow and peaceful as the spells finally did their work, and Loki would return gradually, lethargic, eyelashes fluttering as Thor took his hand and explained what had happened, where he was and how he had gotten here, assured him that everything was fine.

It had never taken this long before, though. He decided to go ahead and take Loki's hand in advance; maybe the touch would help pull him back out of his sleep.

"Loki?" he said, and made his move.

Loki's eyes sprung open. They flew to Thor and then instantly he was in motion, flinging himself gracelessly away to the side and flailing at the empty air. Crashing to the floor.

"Loki!" Thor stood and moved around the furniture to get to him, but Loki was squirming around on the ground and dragging himself under the bed. His breaths were quick and noisy.

"Loki – Loki please-…" He had _just _started to go to his knees when he realized he had the wrong approach entirely; Loki was fleeing from him and who could blame him. Pursuing him into his chosen refuge would only panic him worse.

"Loki, I-, I am moving away now." He tried for the tone he would use to calm a horse. "I'm all the way over here. Come out. Please. I'm-." _I'm not going to hurt you._ It stuck in his throat.

The panicked wheezing had stopped; it sounded like Loki was breathing normally now, so he went on. "Loki, I am so sorry."

"Just- just keep away from me." Loki was obviously trying for a tone of annoyance.

He had to swallow several times before he could answer. "As you wish. I am so-"

"Where's the girl?"

"Father has... spelled her to sleep."

Loki sighed. "I thought of trying that," he said, still from under the bed. "But I was concerned that if it didn't go well you would blame me. It's dangerous."

"Yes. Father said that her mind may not weather the spell unharmed." He tried to stay calm; the last thing Loki would want was to hear him lose his temper. "He told me this after he had already put her under."

"I'm sorry," Loki said. He was quiet for a bit, and then Thor heard him shifting. "I suppose by now you've realized that I was only helping her. With, in fact, her own cooperation when she was lucid enough to provide it. I didn't hurt her. I didn't rape her. All I did was shelter her from the worst of Malekith's tearing."

Thor couldn't breathe. He _had _realized, of course, but to hear it said, flatly...

"I'd like to come out from under the bed now," Loki went on. "Will you stay away?"

At first he could only nod, but when he realized Loki could not see him he forced out words. "Of course."

Loki crawled out slowly, brushing balls of dust from his hair. He looked weak and shaky. Uncoordinated. Thor recognized the aftereffects of some very powerful magic, and knew how hard it was to move around in such a state, and fought the urge to go help Loki to his feet.

"How do I look?" Loki said at last, when he was finally sitting on his bed again. "Were they able to put the eye socket back together – as it was, or…?"

"Yes." Heavy with effort. "You look the same."

"That's good. All my teeth?" He moved his tongue around experimentally.

"Yes. They said you are... completely recovered."

Loki chuckled.

Thor tried once more to say: "Loki, I am so unspeakably-"

"Stop. It was my fault anyway."

"It was not-"

"_Stop._" Loki held up a hand. "I could have explained it as you burst in. Or even taken my hand out of her in advance. But I didn't. I was fully expecting to eat a punch or two for it." He shrugged, smiled. "I wanted to. So that I could _torture _you with guilt afterwards when you realized how you'd wronged me."

Thor could only stare.

"In retrospect, it was perhaps not a good idea." He took a deep breath, and twisted side to side. "They did an excellent job with the ribs." Then, in the same tone: "You really care for her, don't you. You've caught me _fucking_ your girls before and never gotten quite that annoyed."

Annoyed? He had almost _killed_ him. He had battered Loki almost to _death _with his bare hands. He realized suddenly: "I don't think it was just about Jane."

"Oh?"

"It was… I thought you'd done something awful. Just to hurt me."

Loki blinked. "I hurt you all the time. You've never been so brutal about it before."

He shook his head. How could he explain it – that it wasn't anger driving him, but _grief_. That he had gone completely mad with the idea that Loki his brother was really and truly gone – replaced with this evil stranger. That he'd felt he was fighting for more than his life, rebelling desperately with everything he had. "I don't know what to say. Other than that I am-"

"Yes, yes. You're sorry. So am I. Excellent, then everything is back to normal. You may leave now."

"Loki-"

"Leave. Oh, and by the way," he added immediately, "What did happen with the dark elf? I assume that since you're here instead of out smashing things he's been taken care of, but after I almost _died_ to thwart him I think I'd like to know how it turned out. What happened?" He laughed. "I'm amazed you even had the strength left to fight him, really, after all the energy you expended... well." He looked down at himself.

"I did not confront the dark elf at all," Thor admitted. "When I realized what I'd-... I brought you and Jane back to Asgard at once. I brought you to the healers... and her to the pleasure house... and went straight to Father for help. He's planning how best to handle Malekith even as we speak."

Loki's eyebrows arched. "_He's_ planning? You're going to let him call the shots?"

Thor didn't look away. "I think I have made enough decisions for one day."

Loki grinned – cold. "You do feel awfully guilty, don't you."

He felt worse than he had ever felt in his entire life. Loki surely _was _lost to him now, after this. And he had no one to blame but himself. He nodded. "Yes." _Forgive me,_ he wanted to say. _Or at least tell me that some day you may._

But all Loki did was sit back among his pillows with a loud sigh of satisfaction. (Though, honestly, he did not look very satisfied.) "Good. Now get out. And – assuming Father hasn't made a vegetable out of her – give Jane a kiss for me."

* * *

**The End.**

**Holy shit. Sorry that ended up so creepy and sad!**


	33. Post movie - Traitors

**A/N: What happens to Sif & Co. after the movie?**

* * *

Sif leaned over to tell Fandral: "If we go now to our deaths, know that I'm proud of what we've done, and proud to meet the end with you."

He gave her a bracing smile. "Courage, dear lady. Everything worked out for the best, and the Allfather has always been generous with us before."

The Allfather had changed, though. Thor had said as much. Maddened by grief, imperious and hateful... this was not the Odin that Sif remembered. The Odin that she had once hoped to call her father-in-law. "Let us hope," she said, and turned to repeat her message to Volstagg.

The guard on their left yanked on the chains and warned them to stop chatting, but Volstagg was not cowed. "Don't make me sorry I didn't gut you," he said, and the guard's eyes dropped. He turned back to the conversation. "I don't imagine it will come to that, Sif. But if it does..."

The great doors opened. Guards bowed. "The Allfather will see you now."

They clanked their way forward, as best they could. Sif clanked loudest; these chains had been designed with a man's limbs in mind and they hung off her. _Chains._ The Allfather had never done _this_ before. Still, she did her best to hold her head high as they took their places before the dais. When the clanking stopped, silence fell.

Odin shifted in his seat. "And here you are – again," he said. "You have committed treason – again. When I heard, I found myself wondering whether I could _ever _be sure of your loyalty."

She swallowed. That did not bode well.

"And then," Odin went on after a silence, "It occurred to me that you _have_ been loyal. Fiercely loyal. Perfectly true." He looked at them each in turn. "...To _Thor._ Not to your king, not to your realm, not to your duty. But to _Thor._ To my... foolish son," he added, selecting the word carefully, "Whom I once, but no longer, meant to succeed me."

Something in Odin's tone was... different. He was impatient – and with anger seething beneath. He had never spoken to them this way before.

"Thor is the only one, apparently, who can give the three of you commands you will obey. But Thor is gone, now." _No._ She willed him not to say it. "Which means your services – your _lives_ – are of no further value to Asgard."

A clanking off to her right – Fandral had staggered, tripping over nothing. In the meantime Volstagg was doing a little better: he went down to his knees (yanking the guards two paces in the process when they didn't release his chains) and said: "Your Majesty. If I may-"

"You may not." Odin's lips curved into a _smile._ An icy cold smile. "Of love for my son I will not have you all butchered outright," he said, and then Sif could breathe again. "Instead... I strip from you your ranks and your titles. I strip you of your citizenship. You will leave Asgard now, and never return." Thank the gods. Thank the _gods._ "All except one."

Sif blinked. "One?" Odin's eye was on _her_, and it was greedy. It was impossible, that he could mean...?

But then Odin's eye moved away. "Yes. One of you," he said, looking now at all of them in turn, "Will pay for your disobedience. As punishment for what you have done, one of you will be put to death." And that smile, that _smile _was back again. "You may choose who."

* * *

Loki was trying to keep a straight face. Trying not to bounce giddily in his seat as he waited to see how it would turn out. If push came to shove Volstagg would surely volunteer himself, but he lacked the authority to make the others allow it. Sif would stomp and rage, and then probably challenge the Allfather to single combat for the sake of her friend. But he wasn't sure about-

"Not it!" Fandral chirped, and then laughed. He turned to his friends. "But in seriousness: I assume we are all in agreement?"

Loki's eyes were currently locked with Volstagg's, for some reason, but he could still see Sif squaring up. "Yes, we are," she said.

Volstagg didn't blink. "Aye."

"Ahem. Your Majesty." Fandral bowed to get his attention. "As much as we appreciate the offer of leniency for two of the three of us, Sire, I'm afraid we're going to have to decline. We none of us would live at the expense of a friend."

Loki was amazed at the surge of _anger_ that overtook him. _You were certainly quick enough to kick ME to the curb!_ Abruptly the game was no longer funny. "You'd prefer to die? Very well. Guards." He gestured irritably.

Volstagg was first – he was already kneeling, so the guards just shoved his shoulders down to bow his head. One drew a blade with a sharp clean _zing._

"Your Majesty!" Fandral was dismayed and reproachful. "This is-... This is quite sudden. Won't you at least grant us a few minutes to say farewell?"

Loki wanted them out of his sight, now and forever. "No." He gestured for the guards to get on with it.

"Odin!" Sif's voice rang out, firm and loud enough to halt the executioner mid-swing. "This is _wrong_! After everything we have done for you, and for Thor, we deserve better than this! Even Loki, a _real _traitor, wasn't handled with such coldness."

She just _couldn't resist_ bringing his name into it, could she! He should execute her himself. "Loki... is where he belongs," he said loftily. "Do you question the wisdom of my judgment?"

Fandral jumped in again. "It's not your wisdom we question, Sire, it's..." He shook his head. "We know it was the queen's intervention that saved your son. And I suppose... we are wondering... whether all hope of mercy in Asgard has died with her? Does our king have no compassion of his own?"

Loki considered. The guard still held a sword over Volstagg's neck. Waiting.

"None," he said, with a twitch of his lips. "Odin Allfather has no compassion at all." But he gestured clearly for the guard to hold. "You spoke well, however." It was a shame how few in Asgard valued the skill. "So I will let the three of you live. In Frigga's name." He kept a straight face – somehow – as he added: "And Loki's. I suppose he has rather set a precedent."

He sat stony through their tears and gratitude, reminded them to be gone by sunset, and then left the throne room.

…And then crept back, invisible, to spy. The friends were all embracing. "-You know what this means?" Fandral was saying, into Volstagg's shoulder. "It means that as much as we may hate ourselves in the morning... I think we're going to have to drink a toast to Loki tonight."

He was never going to see them again. He was glad – truly. He was.

But the throne room felt a little quiet once they had gone.

* * *

The End.

I wonder if he was actually going to do it or not. I think not. (Probably?)


	34. Loki's Funeral

**A/N: Random AU for the end of the movie – what happened to "Loki's" body?**

* * *

Thor was filthy, hurting and exhausted. Bath and a bed had never sounded so good in all his life, but still, before he would let his attendants usher him away he had one thing more to tell the king. "Father. As soon as we've rested, let us call together the masters of ceremony and start making arrangements."

Odin's jaw dropped and at first he mouthed without sound. Then: "Your mother lies dead. Your brother, dead. Asgard half in ruins, the realms bleeding, and all you can think about is your coronation? I am disappointed, Thor. I had thought-"

"No!" Father hated interruption, but Thor could not let that stand. "No, no of course that's not what I meant." He drew himself up. "I meant funeral arrangements. For Loki."

Another silence. Then Odin shook his head. "No. Loki will have no funeral."

"But-... but I told you what he did for me!" he protested. "How he died in the end. You cannot think that that does not wipe away the stain of his earlier crimes. He redeemed himself, Father – he changed. I've told you. I swear it."

Odin frowned. "Redeemed himself," he said softly. "Changed. Is that how you would describe it?"

Thor didn't understand. "Of course. I told you what he did, the-"

"I don't doubt you've told me what he _did._" Odin was sharp. "But what makes you say _changed_? What makes you think that the affection which saved your life wasn't there always – only Loki had no way to show you which you would believe?"

That was... a terrible thought. Thor pushed it away and tried to focus on the topic at hand. "All the more reason to honor him with funeral rites," he insisted. "If his heart was true then I did him grave wrong, yes. And I have no way to make right what I've done except do my best, now, to treat him as he deserves."

Odin sighed. "Do you think he _deserves_ a ceremony that nobody will bother to attend? Do you think he would like to see that in the end nobody mourns him after all?"

"I. _I_ will attend. _I _will mourn. Father, please."

Odin was quiet for a while. "There will be no public funeral," he said at last. "But you may see that he gets his rites. You and I will send him off, alone."

* * *

Thor cried. More than Loki was expecting. He cried as the body (a dead dark elf, layered with illusion and heavily enchanted to disguise its foul smell) was prepared and set into its boat, cried harder as the boat was pushed off.

Once it had drifted far enough that the body couldn't be seen anymore, Loki cried too. This was as close as he was going to get to Mother's memorial; he had always been an excellent pretender and when the flames roared up it was easy to imagine that it was her soul he was watching released.

"I'm sorry, brother," Thor said eventually. Voice breaking.

Loki was surprised to discover that after everything, it still hurt to see him hurting. Earlier, when Thor had first asked about a funeral, he had made him hurt on _purpose,_ to make him pay for the comfort he was stealing but didn't deserve.

But this, now, was genuine grief, and Loki couldn't deny that it tugged at him. He leaned in to bump his shoulder against Thor's – their substitute for a hug since childhood, since neither of them wanted to be seen _hugging_. "It's all right," he said.

-... in Odin's voice. _Fuck._

* * *

**The End.**


	35. Accomplice Wanted

**A/N: This popped into my head after re-watching Avengers today. But it's Loki-centric and post-TTDW, so I guess it goes in this collection.**

**EDITED 12-18-13: A second part has now been added to this chapter: a tame little sex thing. Enjoy.**

* * *

There was a plain envelope on the floor of her apartment, as if it had been pushed under the door. Natasha picked it up, judging the weight and thickness of it instantly. Just a plain piece of paper inside; she was sure. She shook it: no powder. Still, she pulled a mask out of the hall closet before she opened it, just in case.

Just a piece of paper. She opened it up and it said – in handwriting – **_Are you still for sale?_**

She heaved a sigh. She couldn't just write the note off. First, the person knew where she lived…

…And second, her door and floor had a row of interlocking metal tabs that made it impossible for things to be pushed under her door.

She left the apartment immediately. Took out a pen and wrote an answer right on the letter: **_Depends who's asking and what they're looking to buy. Notes are inefficient. Text me,_** and left it on the floor of the hallway.

She spent the night at the house of some stranger she met in a bar. (He was safe; she was confident. She'd culled him from a group of harmless-looking drunk friends and then lifted his phone from his pocket to quickly check up on him in the bathroom.)

The next morning she went back home with backup, and had the place searched. No indication of how an intruder had gotten in, no indication that one had touched anything. The note was gone, though.

The amount of time it took the person to find her cell phone number would be a test. She thanked the agents for their help and plopped down on the couch.

Her phone buzzed the moment the door closed behind them.

**_There: now we are alone,_** the text said.

She kept her face impassive, because apparently he had eyes on the apartment. She didn't know _how_; the agents were supposed to have been looking out for that sort of thing. Well.

Time to answer. **_You've convinced me you're not wasting my time,_** she said. **_But if you've done your homework you know I don't do much freelance work anymore._**

**_I don't need MUCH work,_** came the immediate reply. **_Perhaps six weeks. It should be nothing you have moral objections to. And I'll pay you in coin more valuable than you can imagine._**

That last, actually, concerned her. If the person had offered her money – lots and lots of money – she would have agreed to at least hear out his proposal. But this… what exactly was at stake?

When she considered a little too long, the person texted her again: **_Texts are inefficient. Let's speak._**

At least if she heard the person's voice she could get more of a read on how creepy he – or she – actually was. **_Call me._**

**_No. Let me in._**

She stared at the phone. He was _here_? There should have been alarms and alarms…

No time to be paralyzed. She took out a gun and checked the peephole. Someone was there – alone at least. It was a bland-looking older gentleman in a suit. As she watched, he stepped away, spread his arms and turned around. Something about his gestures was familiar, but she couldn't place it. Anyway, he wasn't packing any visible weaponry.

And of course if he'd bypassed the security downstairs he could have made short work of the locks if he'd wanted. "Okay," she said through the door. "Come in."

When the door was opened for him he ducked his head to her – almost a bow. "Hello."

She didn't yet step aside to let him enter. "What's your name?"

His smile, too, was familiar. "We'll get there. May I?"

He clearly _was _here to hire her, not kill her, so she let him in the apartment. Then she locked the door behind him and armed all the security all over again, just in case he had friends lurking around.

"Sit," she invited, but when she turned she found he had already taken a seat on the couch.

"Sit yourself," he said, and nodded towards the armchair opposite.

She opted for the barstool instead – now she had a couple of feet of height on him and a full view of the room. She waited for him to talk.

It took him a moment. "Ah… I'm going to hate this," he said at last. He made a helpless gesture. "The problem is, if we both operated with our usual degree of carefulness it would be weeks before we'd even arranged a face-to-face meeting, and I don't know that I have that much time. Instead, one of us will have to take a leap, and I recognize that as the party in need it will have to be me. So." He took a deep breath… and then hesitated. "You… _will_ remain calm?" he said. "Regardless of what I tell or show you?"

She blinked. "As long as I don't think there's a safety concern, I promise I'll at least hear you out."

"There's no safety concern," he assured. "Honestly."

And then he _sparkled,_ and the nondescript old man melted away entirely. In his place sat Loki.

He was smiling. "Hello."

* * *

Fuck – _fuck! _She didn't speak until she was sure her voice would be quiet and calm. "Thor told us you were dead."

"Thor was… misinformed."

"I see."

"I'm not dead. I'm quite well. In fact I am making a power play for Asgard."

"Oh. You did say you wanted a throne." He hadn't yet done anything menacing… but she knew how quickly he could change.

"Mm. If I can have that one, I will leave your people alone. _Asgard_ will leave your people alone."

She blinked. More to play for time than anything else, she tossed off: "So now I'm negotiating intergalactic peace treaties? This kinda sounds like it's above my pay grade."

He grinned at her. "Not at all. _That _is not the nature of my bargain."

_My bargain._ Was he intentionally calling up the memory of his awful threats from the cage?

No – he winced at his own word choice and irritably waved it away.

She didn't dwell on it. "Then what is?"

"Under my rule, Asgard will leave your people alone regardless," he promised. "It would make no sense for us to do otherwise. But as for how I plan to pay you for your services…" He spread his hands. "You've seen what I can do. Name your price."

She shifted in her seat. "Depends on the _services,_ doesn't it?"

"I need everything you have to offer."

She gave him eyebrows. "Everything?" she said, with a bit of a purr.

"Well, I'll have that too if you're willing." He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between. "But. What I've done is take the throne under disguise as Odin. And what I need now is a counselor, a strategist. Someone to help me manage and navigate." She didn't speak up when he paused, and eventually he went on. "And I need a spy. Someone who can go where I can't, who will charm where I offend, who's free while I am occupied. And – equally important, honestly – is I need a friend. I've killed or banished or replaced everyone who knew the royal family too personally, and now I am left effectively completely alone." He cocked his head and his face scrunched into a pained, worried expression that looked so _real_ she wanted to go pat his hand. Even though it obviously wasn't. "Agent… I've got _no one to brag to._"

"Oh, poor baby." Her inclination was to say: hell yes! It was a job too good to pass up, and while Loki probably intended his _payment _to come with strings, she had no doubt that in the end she could get whatever she wanted from him in whatever way she wanted it.

Still. To give herself a second to reconsider, she said: "Why me?"

"You've got the skills I want. And I know you. I know you through Barton; I know every memory he has of you and every opinion he's formed. I trust his judgment. And I trust _you_. Because you're mercenary."

"Mercenaries are typically the people you _don't_ trust."

"That's just foolish. I don't trust people who work for causes. But you… you are rational and dependable. And you impressed me."

"Well, thank you." She hopped down from the barstool and stood with her feet apart and her arms crossed. "Let's recap. I come with you to Asgard and do whatever you think is necessary to help you cement your position. Socially, politically. Fine. And I keep you company, and I pat you on the back." Then she rolled her eyes and checked him out briefly. "…And perhaps some other places, if I feel like it."

His smile showed teeth. "Exactly."

"Will you want me to kill people?" She was cool about it.

So was he. "I may. It won't be anyone beyond your abilities or anyone you'll lose sleep over."

That was more assurance than she usually got. On to the more practical concerns. "_You_ come up with a cover story – or a disguise. I can't just pretend I stumbled into the cloud city by accident."

"I will handle it."

"You bring me back here when we're done."

"Of course."

"Then you give me a fuckload of money. Real, actual, usable money. I don't care how you get it."

"Agreed. I can't say I'm familiar with how one measures a _fuckload,_ but I'm sure we'll work it out."

She ignored him. "Then you leave Earth alone. _And_ you owe me some sort of magical favor some time."

"Yes. If you're concerned that I won't deliver, you're welcome to ask for payment in advance."

It might be better to just keep the IOU. Who knew what kind of _magical favor_ she might need one day? She considered.

"Oh," he added in the silence, "And it goes without saying: you don't tell Thor."

It _did _go without saying. "The last time the two of you had a heart-to-heart you smashed up Stark's tower," she reminded. "The time before that, you destroyed a town. I think it's safer for all concerned if Thor doesn't even know you're alive."

"Then we're in agreement." Now his smile was wide, and creepy but not as creepy as some of the other smiles he'd given her. He stood up and held out his hand. "Aren't we?"

She took his hand. His grip was strong – weirdly strong; it didn't _look _like he was squeezing on purpose. Up close, he was huge. His eyes were piercing. (And clear this time. None of that weird cloudy blue glint now.) He was pretty intimidating, but then, would she really want to work with an ally who wasn't? This would be interesting for sure. "We are."

"Excellent." He grinned and waved his free hand in the direction of her bedroom. "Go pack."

* * *

**End of Part 1.**

**A/N: The next bit, below, has some SEXUAL CONTENT. It takes place in Asgard one evening, while Natasha and Loki are relaxing in the king's private rooms after a tough day of political intrigue.**

* * *

"I want a bath," Loki said, out of the blue. "Come take a bath with me."

His tone made her turn difficult. "Is that an _order_, Your Majesty?"

He heaved a sigh. "I meant it as an invitation, but if an order is what it takes, then: yes, it's an order. I want you to strip and to flirt with me." He waved off the obvious. "I won't touch you without permission."

She couldn't help herself. She supposed Loki was less ridiculous than most, but still, the idea that men thought they should try to _reassure _her for her safety (and that she would believe them!) always made her laugh. "I'd like to see you try," she said sweetly.

"I meant no offense," he said, and it annoyed her that even when he was being offensive, he had a nice voice.

"Fine – I'll come with you," she said, hopping down from the windowsill. "But be aware that you're not getting in my pants."

He gestured her out of the room and put a hand on her back as he followed her. It was one of those irritating paternal gestures she would usually shrug free of, but if he was really as touch-starved as he claimed she would probably have bigger problems soon and should choose her battles.

"In here," he said – and there was that _voice_ again. "Take your clothes off."

She thought it reasonable, now, to elbow him away from her and turn her back while she undressed. "Believe it or not, Loki, even a pathetic little human like me can figure out how to use a bathtub."

"Well, you're certainly taking long enough," he growled from across the room. She turned in surprise, and found that he was already naked – magic? – and settled down in the steaming bathwater. He was leaning back against the rim of the tub (_pool, _really; it was huge) with his head tipped back. His eyes – if they were even open – faced the ceiling. He wasn't ogling her at all.

So she stripped quick and businesslike; no need to be sexy now. She approached the far side of the pool and dipped one foot in.

"Too hot?" Loki said lazily, without looking up.

"It's fine." It _was _too hot, for comfort at least. It wouldn't hurt her though, and she'd get used to it. She stepped all the way in, stepped down off the seating ledge and sat on it.

It was quiet for a long while, and she let her head fall back too.

Eventually Loki said: "Do you take baths, at home?" He sounded as groggy as she felt.

"Not often. Relaxing is dangerous."

"That's too bad – bathing suits you." Suddenly he didn't sound so groggy any more – and he didn't sound so far away. She opened her eyes and discovered that somehow he had gotten up and crossed the tub, and now stood looking down at her.

* * *

When he broadcast his interest, she didn't flinch away and cover up. Instead, she spread her arms wider on the wall behind her and arched, so that her breasts _just _started to break the surface. Loki grinned at her. _Good girl._ "Bathing suits me? Would that be... especially when I'm not wearing a bathing suit?" She arched a little further, until the little wavelets were licking gently at her nipples. "You're welcome to enjoy the view," she added, with an edge in her voice, "But like I told you: you're not getting in my pants."

"Your pants are over there." He sat down on the ledge – not quite _next to _her; there were still a few feet of space. "But don't worry. Contrary to what Thor may have told you, I do know how to keep a bargain when I make one."

She shifted to sit up straighter, sitting cross-legged. Now that she wasn't slouching the water only came halfway up her ribs, but she didn't seem to mind. "Thor didn't say you cheat. Only that you lie."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

They sat in silence a while longer. He was watching drops of moisture run down her neck and chest. Water or sweat? He thought it was probably sweat; her cheeks were pink and the water was quite warm. (He liked to think it was sweat; she was pretty when she sweated.)

All the while she was staring absently into the distance. When she finally looked at him, she did a double-take and snapped: "Hey! Do not jizz in the bathwater."

"What?" He followed her gaze, and realized that his hand was in his lap, curled loosely around an erection he hadn't even noticed. He let go. "Oh. No no, I'm not-…" and then he laughed. "Why, are you worried I'll impregnate you? Can you imagine trying to explain _that _to your friends and colleagues? _Oh, I was just visiting Asgard, and-_"

"Shut up," she said, but there was a smile in her voice. "It's not that. It's just that I don't think we know each other well enough yet for me to bathe in your semen, okay?"

He considered telling her that the concept was more than figurative; his magic actually _could _turn the bathwater to semen. Then he considered skipping the warning entirely, and just _doing _it. But first of all _he _was sitting in the bathwater too, and second, he supposed that such a thing would probably constitute more than light provocation and might drive her away, and he didn't want that.

Instead he just echoed, thoughtfully: "Yet."

She snorted and stood up. For a moment he thought he'd offended her after all, but then she brushed her hair out of her face, looked down at him and said, "Do you want me to jack you off?"

"_What?_"

"I'm pretty choosy about who gets to touch me_,_" she explained, "But I have no problem with giving hand jobs to people." He could only stare. "Blow jobs either, really," she added, "Except not now, because underwater oral sex takes effort. So?"

He could imagine how stupid he must look, and tried to pull himself together. What was he supposed to say to such a direct...? "Ah… Yes please. Thank you. That would be fantastic."

"Okay." She knelt on the seat, next to him, and without further ado put one hand on his thigh and wrapped the other around his dick.

* * *

"I prefer things on the rough side and I'm assuming you do too," she said as she got started. "If you want me to ease up, feel free to say something."

"No, it's-, that's fine." He sounded like he was trying to match her coolness. "More than fine." Unsurprisingly, he was failing.

"Okay, good. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

She could tell almost immediately that it would be an easy hand job; his body language and breathing gave clear clues about what worked, and the pace he liked was not fast enough to tire her. She settled into a rhythm.

Every now and then she would glance up to see what he was looking at. At first he was watching the way her tits jiggled as she moved, but before long his eyes had roamed up to her face. "May I touch your mouth?" he said.

"My…? Uh, sure."

He put a hand against her jaw. "You have pretty lips," he said, and ran his thumb over them. "Full and very soft. I think I would like the way they'd look stretched around my manhood."

Her breath caught. She wondered if this was _his _preference, or if he'd somehow found out about _her_ thing for dirty talk. (Interesting, classy dirty talk. She'd heard more than enough _take it! Take my huge cock!_ to last a lifetime.) "You said you don't mind giving pleasure with your mouth." He was stroking back and forth, back and forth while he talked. She fought the urge to lick at him. "But do you _enjoy_ it?"

"Depends," she said – and couldn't believe how airy and sexed-up she sounded. _He _was supposed to be the one losing it! She tore her eyes away from his and tried to pay more attention to what she was doing.

He laughed softly. "Don't be annoyed. I have centuries more experience coping with arousal than you do. I can count on one hand the times I've truly lost my head to it in recent years."

For a moment she wanted to rise to the challenge and tell him he would need fingers _and _toes to count with by the time she was done with him. But she was still together enough to realize that promising herself as Loki's sex slave was probably something she should think twice about, so she kept quiet and just kept stroking.

He was still plucking gently at her lower lip. "When you give your blow jobs," he went on, "Do you prefer to be the party in control? Do you use your lips and tongue to make him helpless beneath you?"

She tried not to turn and nuzzle into his hand. "Sometimes."

"…Or do you prefer him to grip you hard and fuck your mouth with authority? Do you like to feel owned, to be used like property?"

His voice cracked there at the end. Instantly, she felt less outmatched. "Are you asking," she said against his fingers, "What it would be like if I blew _you_? Are you trying to imagine what would happen once I got down on my knees in front of you?"

He stretched his arm out along the rim of the pool behind him and gripped hard. "I might be." _Definitely _not steady this time.

"Well… I don't know. You _are_ cute when you just lie back and take it. Spread your legs."

When he obeyed, panting now, she put a little more force into her strokes, and moved her free hand to his balls. "Definitely cute. I'm not sure though," she said. "I might let you grab my hair and shove your cock down my throat. Do you think you'd like that?"

He was squirming and jerking, and his eyes had glazed over. "I'm sensing yes," she said. "I'm sensing you'd be really rough – you know I can take it. I'm sensing you'd want my pretty lips to be all swollen and bruised by the time you're done with them."

"_Oh gods_," he rasped, and then pressed his mouth shut.

She added a little twist to the end of her strokes, upped her speed a little. He seemed to be getting close.

She asked with her eyebrows, and he nodded frantically. "Yes- _yes_, like that, keep going, yes."

She kept going. "Okay, well, about the blow job: we can talk about it. I'm thinking a nasty facefuck from you could be kind of hot, actually. Does this feel good?"

As if she needed to ask. He writhed harder and finally gasped "_Yes _there- almost I'm-…"

And that was her cue. She took a deep breath and dove under the water to suck his dick into her mouth, hands still busy, and almost immediately her mouth was full of something too salty to be bathwater. Loki's hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to hurt; he jerked and twitched; and it was hard to tell from under the water but it sounded like he was babbling.

When his death-grip relaxed she sat up and flipped her wet hair out of her eyes.

He had slumped boneless against the edge, breathing hard, but pulled himself together to raise his head and throw her a smile. "Next I was going to ask whether you swallow, but apparently…"

She shrugged and licked her lips.

"I apologize for grabbing you." That was almost _serious._ "I did promise not to touch."

Her hand went to her shoulder. "I think I'll survive."

"Oh good. The alternative would definitely distress me."

God of lies or not, in this instance she was inclined to believe him.

* * *

The End.


	36. Sif and Frigga

**A/N: So, Loki's talked about here, but he doesn't actually appear. In order to make up for that, and for the delay in getting this chapter up, I am also now editing the previous chapter (chapter 35) to include a bonus scene: a (pretty tame) Loki & Natasha sexual encounter. So, if that's your thing, enjoy.**

**This one is Sif and Frigga (but not a sexual encounter.). It takes place shortly after Jane first comes to Asgard.**

* * *

Sif replaced the staff on the weapons rack and toweled off her sweaty face. The practice field was deserted today, so it was the perfect time to work out frustrations. She eyed the rack and considered: maybe a sword would-

"Lady Sif!"

Sif jumped. Calling out to her from the observation balcony was someone she'd never, _ever_ before seen at the field: Thor's mother.

Sif hurried across the yard and took a knee in the dust. "Queen Frigga. I am sorry; I didn't see you."

"Oh, get up, dear." Frigga spread her hands on the railing. Then she looked both ways, leaned forward, and _jumped straight off the balcony._

Her landing was good; she somersaulted neatly and popped back up to her feet. She brushed her dress off, looked around once more, and then took Sif's arm. "Come with me."

Sif let herself be led back to the equipment area, where they were mostly sheltered from prying eyes. "Is something wrong, my queen?"

"No, I don't think so." Frigga ran a hand idly over one of the battle axes. "I wanted to talk to you about Thor's mortal woman."

Instantly Sif was on her guard. What had she done wrong? Surely the queen could not reproach her for her behavior; she had made a point of not interacting with the mortal woman at all! What more could-

"Relax, lady. You've done nothing wrong."

Oh, and she _hated _the way Queen Frigga seemed able to read minds.

"I should preface this," Frigga went on, "With an apology. I know I've made things difficult for you in the past. With Thor."

Well, if they were being blunt today… "How you feel about me is your own prerogative, my queen."

"Oh, _I _feel fine about you. In fact I admire you greatly." Frigga hefted one of the smaller weapons – a sword – and then set it down. "I've always dabbled, you know, but you fight as well as any of the men. It's a joy to see." She sighed. "I do not, however, think you are a good match for my son."

"Yes, my queen. I gathered." From the time Frigga had misinformed her of the nature of Thor's birthday party, so that she came armored while all the other women wore gowns, to all the times the queen had taken Thor's arm herself when Sif was angling for it. "I was always under the impression that the Allfather encouraged Thor to consider me for a mate, but…"

"Yes. But Odin often has very little idea what will be good for his sons."

"Son." Sif couldn't help herself.

"_Sons_," Frigga repeated mildly. "We adopted Loki. My husband decreed that henceforth and forevermore Loki of the frost-giant kingdom would _be his son._ Do you question the decree of the Allfather?"

"No no, my queen. Not at all. I treated Loki like a brother all these years, at Thor's request. But now I think things have changed: he's been disowned."

"As was Thor. Which did not seem to bother you." Frigga smiled and shrugged. "It's all right, dear, I'm not here to quarrel about Loki. He hasn't earned anyone's good opinion lately, and I've given up hoping that people will have faith in him anyway. All I ask for Loki is that when I get him out of that cell, you give a fair chance for him to prove himself. A chance to prove yourself is all anyone's ever given _you_, and all you've ever needed to make an impression."

Sif ducked her head; it would be unseemly to grin at the Queen. But it was true: every promotion she'd ever had, had come at the price of a direct challenge against the man currently occupying the post. Every unit she'd commanded had grumbled and hedged and doubted, until her first charge, her first victory, the first glimpse of her at the fore with someone's blood dripping from her blade.

"I'll keep it in my mind, my lady. If Loki gets out-"

"_When._"

"If Loki gets out, I'll give him all the _chance_ people have given me." That was definitely a promise she could keep – surely there would be single combat in there somewhere.

"Thank you, dear." Frigga spun suddenly, and a throwing knife quivered in a target across the room. Dead-center.

Sif stared. "I didn't know you were so good with knives."

"It's been my secret since childhood. They're light and easily concealed. I was always told they're a good lady's weapon."

_Loki favors knives._ But she kept her mouth shut; she had no shortage of things to provoke the queen about and it seemed stupid to add something unnecessarily. "You said you wanted to discuss Thor's mortal, my queen?"

Frigga sighed. Threw another knife. (Where were they even _coming_ from? Her sleeve? Was she conjuring them?) "I'm told the girl had sharp words for the Allfather earlier. What?" she added, when Sif stared in shock. "Odin needs sharp words every now and again – _as does Thor._ You are loyal to him, _unconditionally_ loyal, and therein lies the problem."

Sif tried not to look as blank and puzzled as she felt.

"Thor needs someone who will counsel him _against _the most stupid of his ideas," Frigga explained, "Not someone who will back them wholeheartedly."

That was so unfair! She had heard of difficult mothers-in-law, but to be punished by Frigga because she was _too_ obedient and supportive of Frigga's son? "If you want someone who will work _against _Thor instead of with him, you might as well just let Loki out of his cage now." Then she bit her lip and worried. Had that gone too far? She would never have said such a thing to Odin… (but Odin would never have provoked her so badly!)

Frigga shook her head, smiling sadly. "I'm afraid that any counsel Loki gave these days would prompt Thor to act in exactly the opposite way suggested. But the mortal, he listens to."

"The mortal is not worthy of Thor."

"No, probably not." Frigga threw again, to a different target even further away. "But they have a very limited life span in any event. I'm asking you to let this run its course. Do not try to get between them, and do not let Thor think he risks losing you by taking her to wife."

"To _wife_?! You think he would-…"

"He's Thor." Frigga didn't seem disturbed. "But in any event the mortal will be dead before you know it, and if you still love my son then, and are a little more willing to stand up to him, we can revisit this question. Do we understand one another?"

Sif nodded.

Frigga held her hand out and called her knives to her. They came instantly and went hilt-first to her hand; even Mjolnir did not heel so neatly. Sif was impressed despite herself. She bowed and thanked the queen for her attention – and for a change, meant it.

* * *

The End.


	37. Thor Lies

**A/N: Happy New Year, everybody! This is about lying. Loki-centric even though it's Thor's POV. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

The first time Thor tries his hand at lying, he lies to the Allfather himself. Why not? He's never been one to do anything by halves.

He is standing beside Odin, still blank and numb with the loss of Loki, still sick with the memory of his brother's face closing off, the terrible decision written all over it, just before he let go his hold and fell. To his death. Loki is gone, and there is nothing left of him save what Thor himself can keep with him, can honor and remember.

What better way to honor his brother's memory than to adopt his greatest talent? It will probably take work, yes, but then Thor has already had plenty of instruction. _We shall HAVE to teach you to lie, brother,_ Loki had complained every time Thor got them caught at some mischief. _Look at me. Watch my face. Repeat after me..._

In this moment he hates Odin, and that frightens him because Odin is his king and his father and he should be feeling love and devotion. But Odin is _at fault _in Loki's fall; Thor feels it in his bones. He should have said something different. _Done _something different. He could have soothed Loki with words or, failing that, stopped him from falling by main force. Thor knows he can move faster than sight, can lift whole buildings with his seidr when he wants to. Why had he done nothing while Loki hovered on the brink?

He swallows down his anger, and makes his face blank. Loki tried so hard to teach him that skill, but until this moment he's never been able. Why now, finally? Perhaps he has just never before had feelings that needed to be hidden.

He wants to say something flattering, something a good son and good subject should be thinking. He settles on the exact opposite of what's in his mind. "There will never be a wiser king than you," he says.

Then he freezes: surely he's not going to get _away_ with that? Now that the words are out of his mouth they sound so blunt, so manufactured, so obviously false that there is _no way _Odin is going to-

...Believe him. Odin believes him. He can see it in Odin's tiny half-smile, in the proud set of Odin's shoulders as he looks out over the city. Odin believes him.

Thor doesn't do things by halves. This is _working, _so he presses on. He tells another lie, something even _more _untrue, something he almost can't bring himself to mouth. "...Or a better father."

He gets away with that, too. He can't believe lying is this easy.

* * *

The next time he lies, it is in Loki's favor. This time he's speaking to the mortal commander, Nick Fury, who is also missing an eye, and also very good at seeing into people with the eye he has left. Thor meets his gaze steadily and tells him that there is no point torturing Loki, because torture will not work.

Fury disagrees with him, pointing out – correctly – that even the toughest people can be broken down by pain expertly and persistently applied. But the lie is successful: Fury believes that Thor, even if wrong, is in earnest.

In truth, Thor _does _want to go into the cell and beat sense into Loki himself, punish him for everything he's done and for his terrible unbrotherly attitude and, most of all, for all the tears and grief his little _trick_ had cost. Thor has not known a truly happy day since the Bifrost, and Loki is the cause of that, and Thor wants to smash his head for it.

But. That is shortsighted. In the end he will be upset if Loki is harmed, especially if by his hand. So he shakes his head and insists that torture will do no good, with the most serious look he has. Fury believes him and lets the question rest.

_You taught me well, brother._ He wishes he could take Loki aside and tell him so.

* * *

Of course, like all star pupils, eventually Thor takes it into his head to challenge his master. Loki is in a cell and Thor needs his help. If Loki distracts him or deviates from the plan, though, it will get them killed. And as he can't trust Loki to cooperate out of love, he needs to do it through fear instead.

Finally, now, he has an opportunity to pay Loki back for some of the hurt he has caused. Lying through his teeth, he disavows their fraternal bond. This was Loki's greatest fear once, that he would say something like this – in exactly this tone, sure and steady, the tone he uses when he is at his most sincere.

He's not halfway through the sentence when he sees Loki's face flicker and then go smooth. So, Loki is trying to conceal something from him. Hurt.

Thor knows he has drawn blood – cut deep – and it's as satisfying as punching Loki ever was. Maybe more so, even, because Loki was always unrepentant as he was being beaten to a pulp, grinning and mocking to the last. But now he is quiet – just taking it.

Thor never does things by halves. He goes on, cold and certain: "Betray me, and I will kill you." This time, oddly, the lie hurts _him, _too. The thought of killing Loki is very upsetting. But his poker face holds.

He watches Loki pretend not to be hurt and he wonders why he was never able to see through Loki's lies in the past. Well. Now he can, and after this is all over they will talk again, and they'll be on more equal footing now that he, too, can conceal the truth and detect when someone else is doing so.

Later on he will come to regret his thoroughness; he realizes as Loki lies dead in his arms that he never admitted the truth and Loki never knew it. He realizes he has done wrong, maybe the most wrong he has ever done in his life: he inflicted terrible pain on his brother _on purpose, _and let him die with those awful words still hanging in the air. He never took it back. Never apologized.

Loki did, though – with his last breaths he was gasping _I'm sorry_, and Thor realizes now, too late, that his lessons on lying really weren't complete yet. Loki had neglected to teach him that lying may be easy but it's not always safe.

He tells himself he will not lie again. It is too dangerous, and he is too good at it.

* * *

He does, however, permit himself one more gigantic lie. This one, once again, is to Odin. And about Loki. How fitting, to end his foray into deceit the way it began.

It's the only way he can think of to honor his brother. After what he's done, he owes it to Loki to give him whatever he would have wanted. Not that it will do Loki any good at this point, but maybe if he tries, he will at least regain the ability to sleep at night. Maybe he can stop hating himself.

He tells Odin that Loki would have made a better king than he would. Loki would have loved to hear that. He tells Odin that he doesn't want the throne. He tells Odin nice things about his legacy, flattering things about Loki, about living and dying with honor. Lies, lies, and more lies. Odin swallows every one, agreeing. Loki would have liked it.

To complete his apology, in the end he really doesn't take the throne – he doesn't do things by halves. He feels a little better after that.

Not _much_ better, though. Loki did teach him to lie, but it would have been nice if he'd also taught him how to live with himself afterwards.

* * *

The End.


	38. Makeover

**A/N: When Loki shows up for sentencing, he doesn't look nearly as crappy as he did when Thor retrieved him from Midgard. How did he get cleaned up? This chapter features: Non-Asshole Odin! Wow!**

* * *

Loki sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of his cell, with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He was focusing hard on ignoring how filthy he was, and how injured.

And how screwed.

He had been brought straight from Midgard to the dungeons, marched in by Thor and locked down. "I'll tell Father I've retrieved you," Thor said. "What happens after that, brother, is out of my hands. I wish you had let me help you when I could."

Loki snarled behind the mask and glared until he went away. Then he sat down to wait for the inevitable summons up to the throne room, for judgment and punishment.

It didn't come. All day... or the next day. Or the day after that.

Thor surely hadn't _forgotten_ about him. Neither had Odin. And neither would want to leave a member of the family down the dungeons to starve alone, so what that told him was that he had been disowned _in absentia_. Wonderful. Now, at last, Odin had truly taken away everything_._ Even the protection of his name.

Without his title to fall back on, Loki knew he was doomed. He had aggressed on other realms on behalf of Asgard – Odin would execute a person for that. Would certainly execute _him._

With death imminent, he thought he should focus on preparing himself. Thinking thoughts that would…

Would only distress him, in the end. There was nothing he could do. Better to ignore his predicament entirely, and think of something better. It had been a while since last he'd eaten, so he would start by fantasizing about cake. If he focused hard enough he could _taste _it. The thoughts pleased him. That was better.

* * *

Some time later, there was the distant creaking of a door. At last: they were coming.

He stood and squared his shoulders; the guards should not see him crumpled on the floor. He would impress them to the last, and go to his death proudly. (As proudly as he could, that is, given his awful physical condition. He knew he looked half-dead already.)

But it turned out the visitor was not guards at all. "Loki," Odin said quietly, "I would not want my presence to give you false hope, so let me begin by telling you that your fate has not yet been decided and it is still possible – I would even say likely – that you will be executed. Do you understand that?"

He nodded. Curious, mostly. What could Odin want with him now?

"But in the meantime," Odin went on, "I do not wish for you to suffer needlessly. I know that you are hurt and hungry. As I don't think it would be prudent to leave you alone with guards or healers, I will care for you myself." He stepped close to the cage. "I will take off that muzzle. However, if you speak so much as _one word_ to me, I'll spell it to your face and you will never remove it again. Is that clear?"

He nodded again. _Note to self: do not speak._

"Will you cooperate in any way I ask?"

_Tell me again what my options are?_ Loki nodded.

"Very well." Odin waved his hand and suddenly the metal cut into his neck a little less harshly. "The lock has been opened. You may remove it yourself. Put it on the floor beside you."

He did as he was told. He came within a hair's breadth of opening his mouth and saying _Thank you, Father_ to butter the old tyrant up a little, but just in time he remembered that he must not speak. He waited.

"Good. I will help you with your wounds." Odin waved again, and this time the effect was much more dramatic: suddenly Loki could breathe deep without pain. His ribs were healed, and his head. The array of cuts and sprains and bruises that had so irritated him by healing at a _glacial_ pace without magic… were suddenly gone.

It was so good he let out a noise, a moan, and then gasped because knowing Odin he might take that as a violation of the no-talking rule.

But Odin ignored him. "Is there any injury on your body that I have _not _addressed?" he said, short and cool. Loki felt himself over, shifted and moved around a little, but there was nothing. He felt fine. No signs of the terrible battering he had taken, or of the damage the Chituari had wrought. (The creatures had not been gentle with him when first they snatched him from the void. He had later been allowed to heal himself as best he could, but his work had been highly imperfect. Odin had always been much better with medical magicks than he was.).

He shook his head, and signaled _thank you _by clasping his hands and bowing briefly over them.

"Good. And now you should be cleaned. I'd thought of using an illusion spell, but Frigga sees through them and she would not like to see you like this. Take off your clothes."

Again Loki obeyed. He managed to stand proud and without covering himself, but he couldn't do anything about the shivering. It was _cold _in the dungeons without clothes on.

"Wash yourself."

_With what?_ he wanted to say, but then he was smashed full in the face with a wall of soapy water. He coughed and swatted at it, but it was coming from every direction now – a rainstorm of suds churned all through his cell.

As soon as he managed to stop gagging on bubbles he scrubbed at himself, gingerly at first until he could really accept that he was no longer covered in wounds and touch no longer hurt him. Once he truly believed that, he washed fast and hard, and then stood still for a blast of hot wind that dried him.

"Here are new clothes. Put them on." Odin conjured leathers into the cell and stood silent while he dressed.

"Lastly: here is food." It was more than just bread and water; Odin gave him a meal that was full if simple and even included a small glass of wine. His stomach gurgled at the sight, but he resisted the urge to tear into it immediately. _Go away,_ he thought. _I'll devour it like a beast once I have some privacy._

"As soon as I have heard from the last of my counselors, I will render a decision. In the meantime: behave yourself." With that, Odin turned and left him.

_Behave yourself._ It sounded like something a father would say to his child – not something a captor would say to a prisoner slated to die. And yet… foolish hope was never a good idea.

Fortunately, though, the food was calling to him, hot and inviting. He was able to close off the rest of his thoughts and just focus on eating it.

* * *

**The End.**

**See? Odin's not *always* horrible...**


End file.
